


Month of Fontcest 2019

by MissDilemma



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Incest, Against a Wall, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Anonymity, Anonymous Sex, Aphrodisiac affects, Aphrodisiacs, Ass Play, Biting, Blowjobs, Bondage, Break Up, Brothels, Brother/Brother, Car Sex, Casual Sex, Collars, Competitive sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Crying, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Disguise, Dream Sex, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Ecto-Vagina (Undertale), Ectobiology, Elevator Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Explicit Consent, Explicit Discussion of Ecto-Bodies, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Fellatio, Flowey (Undertale) Being an Asshole, Forming Magic, Fucking Machines, Gags, Genital Piercing, Glory Hole, Groping, Hate Sex, Heat Cycles, Hotdogging, Incest, It's also not about impregnation, It's not about orgasms, Kinktober 2019, Lamia, Lapdance, Loss of Control, Lots of Jizz, Love at First Sight, Macro/Micro, Mapleblossom - Freeform, Marking, Masks, Master/Pet, Masturbation in Shower, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Melancholy, Muffled Moans, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Orgasm Denial, Other, Overstimulation, Oviposition, Pearl Necklace, Peeping Tom, Pet Play, Possibly Unrequited Love, Praise Kink, Proposals, Prostitution, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Sanscest - Freeform, Second Base, Self-Doubt, Sex Pollen, Sex Work, Sexual Revenge, Shotgunning, Size Difference, Sleepy Sex, Smoking, Smut, Spanking, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Strip Tease, Talkative Sex, Teasing, Threesomes, Touch-Starved, Vampires, Violent Sex, Voyeurism, WOULDJA??, Weddings, Wet Dream, acting like an animal, ass worship, attempts at relationship development, blood-sucking, bluerazzberry, catching feelings, coin decides who gets the gag, consent as traffic light, cross-species breeding, distention, dog costumes, ecto-body, fear and inhibitions, formal wear, generous lovers, heat - Freeform, if you had the chance to change your fate, it's about the feelings, jilling off, kustard - Freeform, lamia sf!papyrus, light roleplay, minion mention, mostly just sex, other ships that aren't established relationships, papcest - Freeform, scent, sex every chapter, supportive lovers, unrealistic amounts of jizz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 23:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 72,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDilemma/pseuds/MissDilemma
Summary: Kinktober featuring skeleton relationships! Some papcest, some sanscest, some fontcest, all just lovely smutty skeleton hook-ups. Enjoy reading them, and I'll enjoy writing them \(*#*\)





	1. Day 1: Butts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ass worship and spanking featuring custard with mild body image issues.

Red waited nervously in the bedroom. He had abruptly presented Sans with the lingerie he bought and the instructions to summon a nearly full ecto-body. Sans groaned because he hated summoning so much magic. Red didn’t really get it. He loved Sans’s ecto-body. 

He loved the blue stranslucent curves. They practically glowed as he walked and the skin of it was always so soft, pert, and malleable. His idea of a good time was just melting into the magical texture of Sans’s summoned body. He could always feel his partner’s reluctance though. 

Not this time though. This time he was going to make Sans appreciate himself.

He waited with his hands behind his back, carefully thumbing the riding crop between his fingers. He had bought it the same day he bought the lingerie, all in prep for this night. The leather was anything but worn and felt cool and textured against his fingertips. 

“Okay, I’m ready, I think.” The door clicked and Sans came out. He was adjusting the top of the outfit – a bright red top that consisted of two silk straps holding up a large cut of lace fabric. It didn’t hang lower than his butt, but it filtered his ecto-abdomen to make a breathtaking contrast. It also allowed him to see the red underwear that matched the top. It was solidly colored and cut through the blue flesh strikingly. Sans picked at the band that appeared too small for his thick thighs and butt. “I still don’t get why you want me to wear this but, ta-fucking-da.” He unenthusiastically jazzed his hands. 

Christ he was gorgeous. Red hoped his eye lights didn’t give away his excitement too much. “You look perfect,” he said. 

“I feel like this underwear is crawling up my throat.” He made a fake choking sound.

Red nodded to the bed. “Sit down, sweetheart.” Sans walked over like it was an obligation, purposefully letting his butt jiggle with each exaggerated step. He spun on his wheel and sat, his top flouncing at the movement. He looked at Red impatiently. 

God he was adorable. 

“Lay back.” Again, he flopped down, his lace moving like a scarf in the wind. “Now roll over.”

“Says the one wearing a dog collar,” Sans snarked, rolling over so he was face down. It gave Red a perfect view of his shoulder blades, his ribs through his back flesh, the dip at the base of his spine that glistened in the mood lighting. And, of course, the rotund bottom that hooked around the edge of the bed like a hinge, letting his legs hang down and allowing him to rest his knees on the ground. The red underwear hugged his middle, resting right between the nape of his spine and the curve of his butt. A small piece of fabric travelled up that mound and between his cheeks. 

He was delectable. 

“Just gonna enjoy the view or do you want me to play dead next?” He was trying to be snarky. Red could tell it was because he was uncomfortable. It was his job to change that. 

Red walked up behind Sans, looming over him and appreciating the buffet. Sans had brought his hands up so he could rest the side of his head on his forearms, propping him up just slightly. Red got down on his knees, putting the riding crop beside him. “Color?” He asked, checking his boyfriend’s comfort level. 

“Chartreuse,” Sans purred. He was fishing for a response in an attempt to make Red almost as uncomfortable as he was. Red smiled, barring his teeth. He wasn’t going to take the bait. 

He reached his hands out, bringing his thumbs to touch the inner side of Sans’s knees. The ecto-flesh there was lean, but it still gave to his pressure. Sans flinched at the initial contact, his feet and toes twitching. He let out a breath. “Ya really knee-d to do that?” He asked. Red ignored him, letting his fingers trail as lightly as possible up the sides of his thighs. If he tried (which he never did), Sans could squish a melon between these powerhouses. They were madly thick. Red tried to wrap his hands around the trunks, but only managed to cover half their circumference. He spread his fingers, circled his thumbs, and gave him another squeeze. 

“You tryin’ to join the mile thigh club?”

His fingers curled around, brushing the crease between Sans’s thigh and vulva. Sans hitched a breath. Red steadied his hands, firmly planting them while letting his fingers play with the sensitive crevice. He heard Sans take breaths in and out, trying to start a sentence but then deciding not to. He was trying to think of a pun but couldn’t. Maybe his joke well was empty. Or maybe he was simply surprised by the contact. Red liked the idea of his actions being responsible for Sans’s silence. What else could he do to affect him?

Red leant forward, hovering his face centimeters away from Sans’s flesh. He stayed there and breathed, letting his warm breath gently caress the blue magic. He could feel the smooth summoned skin pucker and tense into goosebumps. Sans’s legs quaked in Red’s grip. Sans was still quiet, but Red could hear the hitch in his breath as his breath stroked his butt. 

He moved to the right cheek, nuzzling his nasal cavity into it. It gave so easily and emanated a warm, calming magic. Sans’s soul was speaking even if he wasn’t. He nudged in deeper, increasing his grip on his legs before using it to pull Sans partially off the bed. Sans squeaked as Red changed the angle of his body so he could properly run his sharp teeth on the inner cheek. He continued gently scraping him, keeping his contact to the first layer of magic. He lowered Sans’s hips back to the bed before taking his left hand and trailing it up to the scarlet fabric of the underwear. He let his fingers casually play with it, lifting it from the taut skin and then letting it snap back to its resting point. 

“This is so weird,” Sans said, simultaneously dazed and catching his breath. 

“Color?” Red asked. His voice sent another shiver across the ecto-flesh, like dropping a pebble into a pond. 

“Green.” He could hear Sans nodding, scraping his skull against his forearms and unintentionally shifting the sheets. “Very Green.”

Red smiled wolfishly. “Good.” His voice enticed a weak mewl from his partner. 

Red slipped his hand under the fabric of Sans’s underwear, reaching forward until his fingers went halfway up his spine. He curled his tips, pulling his hand back and letting his sharp fingers leave faint scrape marks. The trail was a brighter cyan against the slightly darker body. And it milked a moan and shudder from the body’s owner. 

“You’re so soft,” Red said. Every word he said brought something out of Sans. Whether it was a shudder, a hum, a reinvigoration of goose flesh, a moan, a quake, or a shift of his feet that brought his ankles to cross over Red’s lower leg. Even in this position he was finding a way to entangle them. When both feet were between Red’s legs, toes touching each other, Red decided it was time. 

Red silently grabbed the crop from the ground and moved his nasal cavity to Sans’s other cheek. He got a good grip on it, assuring he wouldn’t drop it before bringing the folded end up to gently brush on the outer side of Sans’s right cheek. His body shivered at the cold. Red heard hands move on the sheets. He imagined those porcelain white fingers were grabbing the duvet for any sense of grounding. 

He continuously put the end of the crop on top of the bum, dragged it gently down to the underside, lifted it and repeated. He was hypnotizing Sans. He waited until the skin stopped reacting to the touch, until the flesh started just enjoying it, like a stroke on the head. He smiled against Sans’s cheek. It was time. 

When he lifted the crop from the underside of Sans’s cheek, he whipped the thing back before bringing it fast and hard to the cheek, making it audibly spank his skin. The spank rippled Sans’s skin and Red could feel the after effect on his cheek. Sans yelped. “Color?”

There was a silence and, for a brief moment, Red worried he had gone too far. But then, he spoke. “G-Green.”

Good. 

He put his face between Sans’s cheeks, nuzzling the skin and closing his eyes. He spanked him again. He used his hand to play with the underwear. Another spank. He moved the underwear enough so that he could bite the thong between his teeth pulling it back. Spank. He let the underwear go and it snapped back to its place. Spank.

He snaked gis hand to the front of Sans’s underwear and, to his pleasant surprise, found Sans’s fingers reaching into that same territory. He couldn’t hold back the smile. Sans was trying to play with himself. 

Not on Red’s watch. 

He took Sans’s hand in his, brought it around his hip and pulled it to brush against Sans’s butt. “You feel that?” he asked. “Feel how soft you are? Mm.” Spank. A gasp from Sans. “So good. You’re so fucking good.” He made Sans’s hand feel his ass up, pressing it deep into the flesh so he could feel just how malleable he was. It was a good distraction so Sans wouldn’t see Red’s next move coming. 

Red opened his mouth wide, gently biting Sans’s butt before letting go and running over the tiny indents with his tongue. “O-Oh~” He could feel Sans press his head into the bed. “What’re you – ah!” It was a gasp of pleasure as Red took another bite, this time pressing harder, leaving slightly deeper indents before licking his tongue against them, completely flat. He teased his hip with the crop. 

“Color?” He hadn’t meant to, but it came out as a growl. 

“Green, but-“ Sans shifted from where he was, lifting himself and crawling on the floor in front of Red. His face was bright blue and a little sweaty. Red easily recognized the staticky appearance of his eye lights. He was into this. “I want you to look at me.”

Sans took initiative. He moved Red to lean against the bed, legs still bent under him. Sans straddled his knees, took Red’s hands in his and forcefully putting them on his ass. Red couldn’t help but blush at the boldness. He looked up to Sans, appreciating the angle. Sans brought his hands to cradle Red’s face. “Now keep talkin’.” Red dug his fingers into their new resting place. Sans openly moaned, leaning his head back and gaping his mouth. 

Fuck, this was a good view. 

He gripped and pulled, yanking against Sans’s butt, making him rise and fall with his hands. “You’re so sensitive. Soft and warm and fuckin’ gorgeous.” Sans kept his hands on Red’s shoulders, letting him control everything in the situation as he raised himself up and down. “You know what you do to me. You know exactly what you do when you walk around with this body hanging out like this.” He moved like a wave, whimpering with every movement.

Red squeezed. “So pert and responsive.” It was like holding a grapefruit and he was massaging the citrus juices and fibers until they loosened and leaked. He could feel the warmth from his ministrations, enflaming his magic. Sans was breathing unevenly. “Who knew you were a complete ass slut.” He let his hands lower Sans down. His chest was moving the laced top. Red brought his mouth over to the side of Sans’s head. “Your ass is mine, babe.” 

Sans shuddered in a familiar, echoing way. His body quaked and his knees went weak, making Sans actually keep him up with his bare hands. He squeezed Sans’s ass cheeks through it. Sans rested his head in the crook of Red’s neck, desperately trying to even his breath as his body trembled. It was quiet and subtle, but it was an orgasm. 

Sans lifted his head, looking Red in the eyes. His eye lights were huge and flashing. He knew he was trying to blink the stars he was seeing away. Red smiled wolfishly as he had in the beginning. 

“Can’t believe I made you come just by touching your ass.” Red’s words were like cold water, snapping Sans out of his reverie. He rolled his eyes. “What? You don’t believe it? Even though it just happened?”

“How do you know I didn’t fake it?” Sans said smugly with his arms crossed. Red raised a brow and gave Sans’s butt a playful slap. His breath hitched and the blush came back – not out of embarrassment, certainly from pleasure. 

“No butts about it, babe.” He tilted his head. “Actually, there is one.” He gave him another squeeze. Sans tempered his breath before grabbing the sides of Red’s head. 

“Oh, shut up.”

And Red did. It was hard to talk when his boyfriend kissed him like this.


	2. Day 2: Voyeurism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voyerusim featuring Blue and Razz and peeping in the shower.

Razz was tired when he came home that night. He was excited to rest his sore bones in a hot bath. It was the sole thought that got him through the long afternoon. He eagerly kicked off his shoes and started unbuttoning his shirt on the way to the bathroom. But he abruptly stopped walking mid-step.

The bathroom door was cracked open and hot steam was floating out of the small opening. He could hear the shower running and his boyfriend humming. Razz tried not to groan. Of course, Blue decided to shower right when Razz was supposed to get off work. Did he do that on purpose? Or was his timing just off?

Razz sighed and turned, deciding to treat his exhaustion with a tub of vanilla ice cream instead.

“Hmmm hm, mmm.”

He stopped in his tracks. He knew that sound. He was very familiar with it. He turned his head, piquing his hearing. 

“Haaa, ngh.”

Before, Razz had walked through the house as if he was the only one home. Now he practically tip toed to the bathroom, listening to his boyfriend’s little mewls through clenched teeth. He peeked through the cracked door to see the shower. 

He had never been so grateful to have that hideous tacky shower curtain. 

It was see-through, with hundreds of little circles embossed onto the plastic so that it distorted whatever you saw through it. The idea was that it distorted the body of whoever was showering so much that it acted as a real-life blur effect. And it mostly did do that. 

Mostly.

He could still make out Blue’s bones through the distortion. He was standing under the water, letting it run down his skull and back as he faced the shower head, his hand bracing himself on the wall. He was stroking his ribs with his free hands, and no amount of embossed plastic could hide the bright cyan color that was accumulating in his pelvis. 

Razz pressed his back against the wall, trying to center himself. 

He had just caught his boyfriend in a compromising moment, but Blue had no idea he was there. A part of him – the good, moral, right part of him – knew he should just go to the kitchen and wait until Blue was done. But another part of him – a big, strong, feral part – wanted to plant his feet where he was and watch everything that ensued in the bathroom. 

“Nnn – ha!” 

He pivoted. Blue’s mewl pulled the decision from his soul as he looked through the crack in the door. His boyfriend’s electric blue magic took form into a long, thick cock. Water practically steamed off the burning magic. Blue bent his arm against the wall, resting his forehead on his ulna as his hand just traced the head of his penis. It was so simple and yet so erotic. Razz couldn’t help but feel his own magic pool in his pelvis. He tugged at his shirt collar as he slid down to a sit. He was going to be here a while. 

Blue’s breath hitched, his hand firmly grasping his shaft and giving it a stroke. Razz saw the shiver rack through his spine. Razz’s own body shuddered in sympathy. Keeping his eyes trained on his boyfriend, he let one hand blindly go down to his pants and unbutton them. He carefully unzipped so Blue wouldn’t hear. Although, the shower would likely drown out any other sound anyway. When he had the space, he let his hands go to his magic and help it form into a pussy. 

Blue arched his head back, letting the water flow down his chin and inside his ribcage. “Oh, ho...”

His lips formed and he immediately slipped his fingers inside himself. His knees bent at the sensation. 

He could see the white shadow of Blue’s boney hand slowly stroke up and down his penis. He moved his fingers in rhythm with the motion. His boyfriend started stroking faster, his hand squelching against his ecto-flesh in the downpour. Razz’s hand started cramping at trying to keep rhythm. He used his knuckle to try and stimulate himself to keep up with Blue. 

“Ha, ha, nnngh, fuck, Razz.”

He physically jolted at the sound of his name on his boyfriend’s aroused breath. His magic nearly dissipated out of panic. He focused whole-heartedly on Blue. He hadn’t turned his head and he continued stroking himself. 

Razz relaxed, trying to make his magic come back to where it had been. He hadn’t been caught. Blue was just saying his name. Which probably meant he was thinking of him. 

He was thinking of him. He was showering and masturbating and fantasizing. He could’ve imagined anything and he was imagining Razz. 

He took a deep breath, trying to temper his arousal from the thought as he circled the knuckle of his thumb on his clitoris. He let the breath come in and out of his mouth in shallow bursts, feeling the steam against his face and keeping it out of his mouth. Blue’s knees came together. He tried to muffle his sounds by biting his hand. Razz wanted Blue to let his mouth be free. To moan and squeak and mewl, letting every little bit of feeling and pleasure out. He wanted to hear it all and drink it in. For that reason, he was glad that Blue had always stunk at keeping things in. Despite his efforts, he made his delicious sounds. 

Blue’s whole body was trembling, his form wavy and undefined more so than normal because of how he was vibrating. Razz focused on Blue’s expression. Nothing could keep him from reading Blue’s face like it was a holy text. He could see the stress in his eyebrows, the slight gape of his jaw and the little way his sockets clenched in semi-concentration. He never liked showing how much he tried, and Razz felt lucky that in this moment he was permitted to see his effort.

Razz rubbed himself, focusing on that expression and feeling his toes curl. 

“Oh-oh ho!” Razz clamped a hand over his mouth, too late and slow to stop the sound from coming out. He whipped his head away from the crack and desperately tried to button his pants with one hand (his other hand was covered in magic and he was not going to touch his nice pants with that). He heard the water turn off and Blue jump out of the shower. Razz fumbled to a stand, using only the palm of his hand to get off the ground and he ran into the kitchen, skidding on the way before frantically washing his hands. 

He had just grabbed the tea towel and started drying his hands when Blue rushed into the room. Water was still dripping down his bones and he had a slight blue glow from having been under such hot water. He was holding a towel wrapped around his chest and his eyes were glowing, ready to attack. When he saw it was Razz, the magic dissipated. 

“Oh, oh thank the stars it’s just you.” He held his spare hand over the center of his rib cage, likely where he felt his soul pounding. 

“Of course, who else would it be?” he asked, putting the dish towel to the side. Blue looked him up and down before stopping his eyes squarely at Razz’s crotch, his brow raised. “What?” Razz looked down and saw that, in his flurry, he hadn’t zipped his fly. “Uh...” He looked to Blue, his cheeks blazed with red. “This isn’t... I was just-“

“Have you been having a fun time?”

“It’s not – I was just... I just wanted to take a bath!” He blurted, zipping his fly. Blue smiled, his mouth curling with mischief. He took two slow steps forward. 

“You can take a bath now if you want.” He ought to. Razz felt almost dirty. “Of course, I wasn’t quite done, so we’d have to share.” Blue boldly winked. Razz’s face was steaming more than the shower. Blue took his hand and Razz couldn’t object. “If we’re both in there, I think it will be extra steamy.” Razz was ashamed of the snort that came out of him. 

He let Blue lead him to the bathroom. He let Blue undress him. He turned on the faucet to fill the porcelain tub. And, together, they climbed into the water.

It was worth the wait.


	3. Day 3: Distention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Distention  
Pairing: SpicyHoney
> 
> Wherein which Edge wants Stretch to fill him up until he's full and Stretch doesn't really get it at first and doesn't think he can do what his lover wants from him.

Stretch was nervous. They’d been planning this night for weeks. Edge had wanted to do it sooner, but he begged his boyfriend for time to prepare – he was the one who needed to build up his reservoirs. Edge also needed to prepare his ecto-body, but it was nothing in comparison to what he was asking from Stretch. 

Now it was the night. They were both ready and Stretch was having stage fright. How was he supposed to do this when he was feeling so nervous? 

He lay back on the bed and covered his sockets with his hands in shame. It hadn’t been his idea, but he wanted to make Edge happy. He just had to perform properly. He could do that. He could totally do that. 

He heard the bedroom door open and close and he couldn’t stop himself from stiffening. His joints only loosened after he let out a deep sigh. His boyfriend sat beside him on the bed, dipping the sheets with his weight. “Are you ready?” Edge asked. 

Rus peaked at his boyfriend through his fingers. Edge was ruggedly handsome – always had been, always will be. He had attractive scars on every one of his bones and, tonight, he had summoned his ecto-body. He was a lean thing, the flesh so tight to his body that his ribs created a shadow on the red skin. It seemed impossible for his species, but Edge was a very skinny skeleton. 

He was supposed to change that. 

He covered his eyes again. Edge’s gentle, long fingers clasped his wrists and pulled them away. “All you can do is your best,” he said. It was supposed to be calming, but Stretch’s best was never good enough. 

“I don’t know if I can do this, darlin’,” Stretch confessed. 

“Then don’t worry about doing it,” Edge practically purred. He scooted back on the bed and used his gentle hands to coax Stretch to follow. Edge lay back on the pillow and put Stretch’s hands on his chest. “Just think about this. Think about me.” Stretch looked down at his boyfriend. His eye lights were a bright Red and the rigid rough scar over his one socket was tinged with the hue of his magic. 

He could do this. He could do this with him. 

He’d rather do it with Edge than anyone else. 

“Okay. Okay, I can do that.” Edge scooted back. He kept one hand splayed on Edge’s ecto-middle and moved the other down to explore his folds. He was as warm as ever and already wet. He pulled his hand away and felt the fluid between his thumb and fore-finger. 

“As if I wouldn’t prepare for you,” Edge said, smiling smugly with his arms crossed. Rus couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. 

“Was lookin’ forward to stalling,” he admitted. Edge sat up effortlessly, took Stretch’s face in his hands, and kissed him. It was long, soft, and drew out Stretch’s arousal. His magic accumulated almost immediately from the kiss alone. Edge distracted him with his tongue, his magic magmatic and spicy, rubbing against his own. He brought his hand down and touched the pooled magic in Stretch’s cradle, drawing it out to shape it as he wanted. The magic solidified into his preferred ideal shape. 

At least, that’s how Edge liked to describe it. It was just Stretch’s cock. But his boyfriend liked the poetics of it all. 

Edge pulled away from the kiss, a string of magic hanging between their maws. “I believe in you, petal,” he said, giving Stretch’s cheekbone a final caress. “Now, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, please, fill me up with you.”

Edge’s bold dirty talk always managed to make Stretch blush. He nodded, his skull and bones warm with arousal and flattery. He gently pushed his boyfriend down onto the pillows. Edge put his arms over his head, grabbing a pole of the head board, bracing to keep his position. 

Stretch adjusted Edge’s hips, lining himself up before slipping inside. 

The simple action made a delicious squelching sound as he moved himself in to his hilt. Edge took him like a pro, not even wincing. He simply let out a breath of relaxation to match Stretch’s movement. His hole was warm and wet, the sensation nearly blinding Stretch as it almost always did. He nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing. 

Edge’s feet stretched out and hooked around the back of Stretch’s pelvis. He pressed his heels against his iliac crest, encouraging him to move. 

Stretch did as gestured. He pulled himself out a bit before moving back in. Out and in. Out and in. O u t a n d i n. 

“Hah, is this really how yo-hore going to blow your bi-higgest load?”

Stretch shook his head. “Please don’t say it like that,” he asked. He was trying too hard to just make it happen. Whatever momentum he had built had tripped up when Edge spoke. 

“Petal, please,” Edge practically begged. “Please, just do what you have to. Use me if you must.”

Stretch nodded. He had Edge’s permission. He readjusted his grip on his pelvis before stealing his courage and pounding into him. He sped his pace up and was unafraid of his force. He let their magic smack and squelch as he hunched over Edge’s body, pressing his forehead against his sternum as he did everything he could. His breathing was rapid and he felt a massive rise in his arousal. It crawled up his spine and then right back down, through his cock, and he felt his release. His hips trembled as the climax sputtered out of him. 

When finished, he lifted his head from Edge’s sternum to see how he did. 

His boyfriend was still thin, but he could see his rust orange magic floating inside of the red ecto-flesh. It was a drop in the barrel. Edge sat up on his elbows. 

“Any progress is good progress.”

“Sorry I thought I could-“

“Shh.” Edge moved, switching positions so Stretch was on the bottom and he was on top. “Should things go to plan I’ll only be able to maintain this position for so long, but, in the meantime, I will gladly take responsibility for this portion of the evening.” He genuinely loved his boyfriend. But sometimes the contractual language got on his nerves. Especially when he knew he wasn’t doing something right. Edge grabbed the sides of Stretch’s face again. “Relax, let me milk you.”

“Ew, no... don’t ever use that term again,” Stretch begged, unable to hold back his smile. 

“I’ll say what I want and milk who I want.” Edge kept hold of Stretch’s head as he rocked on him, kissing the side of his face as he did so. He had to admit, this was definitely more pleasurable. He was always a fan of bystanding. He let him move and rock and get lost in the motion as he built up and up and up and – 

“Ah-ha!” He came a second time. While trying to catch his breath, they looked down to Edge’s tum. Gravity wasn’t helping, but he had significantly more orange magic in him now. The way it floated and spun in his boyfriend’s magic was hypnotizing and, Stretch had to cautiously admit, oddly arousing. He held his boyfriend’s hips and started thrusting. Edge locked his hands around Stretch’s neck, letting him set the pace this time. 

It took a bit longer this time. He had already cum twice in thirty minutes and now he was going for round three. 

This was why he had prepared. He had focused his magic so he was able to increase his, uhg, payload. He had more to give, he just needed to get it out.

So he slammed into his boyfriend, trying to hold him still and listening to his mewls and moans of pleasure until he hit his point again and released. 

He didn’t look at his impact this time. No, he was starting to feel this. 

He flipped Edge over, holding on to his legs up so he could get ever deeper, man-handling him to his ideal position while his boyfriend clawed at the headboard and moaned, his face nearly as red as his ecto-body. 

He breathed loudly and pounded him, his whole body becoming energized as he watched the way his magical cum swirled in the red flesh. 

He came again, his cum properly filling the ecto-abdomen and, ultimately, making the skin distend just a bit. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough that Edge’s ribs no longer cast a shadow. Stretch had done that. He had produced enough to affect the tension of Edge’s skin. He couldn’t hide his smile and got excited at the prospect of doing it again.

He turned Edge over and pounded into him until his ecto-flesh was embossed with Stretch’s pelvis. And he came. 

He pushed Edge’s face into the pillow, letting his chest mold to his back as he thrusted incessantly, building until he came again. 

He lay Edge on his back and thrusted into him as if they were teenagers experiencing this together for the first time and he came again. 

And again. 

And again.

And again.

He was completely out of breath as he hung over his boyfriend’s back. Edge was breathing heavy too. “Pull out, pull out, I wanna see.” Stretch did as told. His magic retained itself and, despite his exhaustion, he felt ready to go for a round... would it be ten or twelve at this point?

Edge sighed as he was emptied and sat back on his heels. Stretch moved around to see how he had done. 

He had done a lot. 

Edge’s once skinny ecto-body was rotund and shining. He extended immediately at the bottom of his sternum and stretched out far – almost as if he were thoroughly pregnant – before coming to a soft bottom that rested on his thighs. Edge moaned, resting his large skeletal hands on the surface. It was a darker red near the surface of the skin and lightened to a pink by the middle. Where his cum was floating, it was that deep warm dusty orange, floating and creating pressure against his magical flesh. 

Stretch dared to put his hand on the body. He pressed his thumb against the skin and the magic inside moved and flushed, swirling in a new disturbed pattern as the skin pushed back, like a helium balloon. 

“Oh, oh, yes,” Edge practically cooed. He let his bulbous form roll to the side. “Haaa, yesssss.”

Stretch dared to smile. “Did we do it?”

“Mmhm.” Edge crawled so his head was on a pillow. “Come lay with me.”

Stretch did as told, grateful for the break as he tucked them both under the covers and held his lover from behind. He let his hands dare to rest on Edge’s skin. Edge covered his hands with his own and sighed. 

Stretch was still at full attention. “Can I do it one more time?” He asked. 

Edge nearly chuckled. “I had to beg you to start this and now you want to keep going?”

“What can I say, I’m a very fickle monster.” He kissed his boyfriend’s neck vertebra, letting his tongue explore the crevices between before he took his cock in hand and carefully slid himself inside his Edge. He lazily thrusted, in and out, drawing one final orgasm out of himself. He felt the ecto-body expand under his hands as he unloaded all that was left of him out. 

He sighed. Edge rubbed Stretch’s hands. 

Why had he been so nervous?


	4. day 4: Gags/Cunnilingus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Gags and Cunnilingus  
Pairing: Kustard  
On the flip of a coin, Sans's fate is sealed and Red makes up for being the only one with a mouth to use.
> 
> Not gonna lie, this entry is short and I'm not super proud of it (writing it felt great but reading it for edits today made me question EVERYTHING). But don't worry! I'll make up for any inadequacies with tomorrows chapter.

The coin bounced on the duvet, revealing tails side up. Sans didn’t know if he should be happy or disappointed at the result. By the way Red smiled, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. 

Beside the coin was the gag. A black ball with a silken ribbon that had been freshly cleaned and was awaiting its placement. Red picked the gag up and motioned for Sans to lean forward. He did and Red gently, lovingly, and assertively forced his mouth open with his thumb and put the ball in. It was large and made his jaw rest strangely on itself, straining his bones the instant after it was placed. He turned and Red tied the ribbon tightly in a bow, securing it in place. 

Rud spun him again, kissing and licking Sans’s neck as he pushed him against the wall. The cold surface sent a shiver down his spine as Red licked the space between Sans’s vertebrae. His fingers went to Sans’s waistband. He pulled the pants down as he got down onto his knees. His shorts rested at his ankles and Red traced the surface of Sans’s legs with the tips of his fingers. Sans couldn’t help but shiver at the gentle caress. 

Sans looked down, his expanded jaw getting slightly in the way of the movement of his neck. He still managed see Red peering up at him with a single red glowing eye light and a long tongue of the same color licking his sharp teeth. 

“Since you can’t use your mouth, I’ll have to make up for ya.” He held Sans’s iliac crests as he licked is ischium. His magic was electric, heating his bones down to his marrow and making it boil. Sans leant his head back against the wall, letting himself live in the moment and feel every little ministration Red performed. The way his thumbs circled, his pinkies tapped, how his tongue finished with an extra little flick before laying it flat against his bones. 

Sans’s magic summoned easily, filling his pelvis and his mouth. The gag had been a bit uncomfortable before, but now his tongue was trying to occupy the same space. He ducked his head forward and hummed in discomfort. He had no throat to choke with, but he felt like this must be a similar sensation. His tongue pressed up against the ball gag, slobbering over it. When he moved his tongue, the slobber moved and got on his bones. 

He instinctively knocked his head back as Red’s tongue penetrated his unformed magic. A vagina manifested, forming tight around the solid electricity. He put his hand on the wall to hold himself up, his knees buckling. Red chuckled, the vibrations racking up Sans whole body and he moaned, biting the gag to ground in an attempt to ground himself.

Red’s grip became firm and whole on Sans’s femurs and, one leg at a time, put them over his shoulders so Sans was being held up by the wall and the strength of Red’s shoulders. He cradled his pelvis to strengthen the position. Red’s tongue pulled out and licked his formed labia. 

Sans’s spine arched off the wall as his boyfriend’s tongue pressed flat on his clit. He grabbed the back of his skull with his free hand, the red tongue swirling around his sensitive bud. 

“Ah – hg!” His moans were stifled. The gag was covered in his spit and, when he curled over, the drool dripped on Red’s head. Sans half expected him to be mad and stop. Instead, he just growled and inhaled Sans, diving into him and using his grip on his pelvis to his full advantage. Sans’s vertebrae scraped down the wall. He tried to use the irregularities in the paint to gain some fraction of a grip, holding him up as his bones clacked and quaked. 

Red brought a hand up, reaching his hand up Sans’s shirt to fondle his ribs. He couldn’t hold back his humming and moaning and even through the gag his sounds came out boldly. Red growled and thirsted, sucking on Sans’s clit as if it was his only source of energy. 

The swell rose up in Sans’s body, his magic glowing as his ankles crossed and his toes curled. He held onto Red’s skull for dear life as he yelled his orgasm, his tongue trying to break through the plastic ball. 

Red licked his walls, pleasuring Sans through his orgasm. When he finished shaking, Red leant back and held his arms out, cradling him down to the floor, placing his boyfriend on his femurs so he could hold him in his lap. Sans’s whole body was limp as he leant his forehead against his shoulder. Red reached behind his head, undoing the ribbon and taking the gag out with a less than pleasing squalp sound. Sans lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe his chin. His boyfriend had some blue magic on his mouth from his meal. Sans had half a mind to use his shirt to clean Red up too. 

Instead, he leant forward and used his underutilized tongue to lick the fluid off before taking him into a kiss, riding up on Red’s femurs. Red breathed in the kiss, holding his back to help him get ever closer. They kissed until Sans was completely out of breath. His sockets fluttered open and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“How was it?” Red asked, almost smugly. Sans smiled. 

“C plus.”

Red scoffed. “Yeah, okay, down play it all you want.”

“That’s a great grade,” Sans assured. “It stands for classy cunnilingual consumation... plus.” Red raised a brow. 

“Does it also stand for cum?” he asked. “Cause boy did you squirt like no – hmph!“

Sans kissed Red, soothing their spat and making Red moan into him. Sans pulled away, a devilish smile on his face. “I’m gonna get you back for this.”

Red growled in satisfaction, not recognizing the tease as a vow.


	5. Day 5: Bondage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Bondage  
Pairing: Kustard
> 
> Sans wants revenge for the last chapter. So he buys some rope and lures Red into his trap.

Sans wasn’t a vengeful person. There had been times underground when he hadn’t even avenged his own brother’s death. But after the way Red had trapped and teased him, Sans was going to get some sweet sweet revenge. 

In preparation for his righteous deed, he went into a sex store. He had half expected himself to be completely and utterly embarrassed. But he was focused on his mission and, when the clerk was showing him his options for ropes and describing their strength and pain levels depending on tightness, he simply took the ends in his hands and tested their tension. 

He settled on a navy blue rope that was soft and easily bent but barely stretched. It was perfect. 

He then spent the next week studying bondage knots and techniques and practicing them with thread on one of Papyrus’s action figures. 

When the night came, he was more than confident about how he was going to execute his plan. He waited at the front door for Red to come home. His boyfriend had spent the afternoon with his brother and thought that they were just going to watch a movie together before dinner when he got home. 

Red opened the door and as soon as he came in, Sans put a hand on his wrist, moving him away from the doorway and closing the door for him. “Hey, babe,” he purred, locking the door and hugging Red from behind, kissing his neck. His boyfriend smiled in pleasant surprise. 

“Ya miss me that much, sweetheart?” Red growled in near excitement. He tried to spin in Sans’s arms, but he held him steadfast. Sans deftly used his hands to unzip Red’s coat and slide it off of his shoulders. He tossed it onto the couch to keep their way clear as he walked Red to the bedroom. “So, no movie?” It was almost a chuckle. Sans could feel the excited and nervous thrum of his soul. He stepped on the back of Red’s shoes, letting his steps slip them off before he kicked them out of the way. A socked, coatless Red flopped onto the bed as Sans closed the door behind him. 

Red looked at him hungrily. “You gonna come here or what?”

“I will in a moment,” Sans purred, walking past him, caressing his cheek on the way. “I gotta get something first. And while I do, you can strip.”

“Can do.” Red stood and shucked off his shorts and shirt. He kept his socks on, per the norm. Sans went to the dresser and pulled the looped rope out of the drawer. Red’s eye lights flicked to it with a surprised intensity. “What’s that?”

“I was thinking of trying something new,” Sans said, trying to seem meek and innocent. “What do you think?”

Red smiled. His grin told Sans a lot of things: he was excited, he was amused, and he had no idea of the intensity with which Sans was plotting. Red winked. “Just don’t tie anything too tight, alright?”

Sans smiled, incapable of hiding his wolfish intentions. “I’d never.”

He had Red sit on the bed and Sans, fully clothed, sat behind him. He made loops around each of his upper arms and pulled them as close as Red could stretch, leaving a good amount of taught rope between his bones. He made a secure knot and repeated the process, making a sort of corset from his arms behind his boyfriend’s back, one that’s trail of rope went all the way down to his wrists. 

“Sit on your knees,” Sans softly commanded. Red did as told, getting on his knees and sitting back. Sans made the rope from Red’s wrists reach down to his ankles, tying them tight together to keep himself immobile and trapped. “Uh, sweetheart, how am I supposed to do the love-makin’ if I can’t move?”

Sans got onto his knees and kissed Red’s cheek from behind. “Don’t worry, I’ll do all the moving we need. Just relax.” His boyfriend smiled, clearly trying very hard to look relaxed, but Sans could see the bubbling stress in his sockets. He took Red’s head in his hands and kissed him, quickly, intently, and deeply before pulling away and staring lovingly in his sockets. His determined revenge was really playful, and he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in any way. “Color?” It was a dainty probe, but a necessary one. And one that let Red breathe out, a lot of tension leaving his body. 

“Green.”

“Sure?”

Red nodded and leant forward, rocking his body on the plush bed to kiss Sans in promise. “I trust ya.”

The sentiment made Sans’s soul thrum if affection. Red was investing in him with something that he gave no one. He came from a universe where trust got you killed. And he was giving his to Sans. 

He was never going to abuse it. 

Sans kissed him again, and again, and again. He kissed Red’s teeth, his nasal bridge, his forehead, cheek, chin, neck, collar bone. He gently pushed him down to the bed, letting Red twist his knees to keep them together. He kissed his collarbone, summoned his tongue, twisted it around his ribs and let his hands focus on his pelvis, stroking the bare bones teasingly. The magic flowed easily from his pulsing soul to his pelvis. It excitedly tried to form a pussy, the lips already taking shape. Sans crawled back up, kissed Red’s cheek, and then whispered in his ear,

“I don’t want a cat.” Red snorted. Sans pulled back with a sly smile, sockets half lidded. “I’d prefer a cock, frankly.”

Red relaxed in his chuckle. “Thought you didn’t like chicken.” Sans splayed his fingers wide on Red’s chest, his legs straddling his body, allowing him to grind his pelvis against Red’s. He gasped, his face dusting scarlet. 

“I only like yours,” Sans rumbled. “I want your cock.” Red’s magic flared and his breath hitched just at the sound of Sans’s words. 

“Ask and you shall receive.” He was clearly trying to sound suave, but the pitch of his voice was unsteady, and it cracked in the beginning. Sans kissed his boyfriend in thanks. He made it long, opening his mouth to let his tongue out and ask Redfor entrance. His tongue manifested to meet his. He sucked on it, milking moans from his hog-tied boyfriend as he fondled his ribs. He felt something new form on the outside of his pants. Red’s magic bulged and grew and became hard against him. 

Sans sat back to look at his work. Red lay on the bed, breathing heavily, sweaty, his arms straining against the knots, his fingers and toes curling, and his strong, healthy, aroused cock standing at attention at his pelvis. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?” Red asked. 

“Yep,” he said it with a teasing smile. He stood on his knees and put a hand into his pants. His magic had pooled, but it hadn’t full formed. He used his hand to sculpt himself, forming his own penis and stroking it until it stood as tall and hard as his boyfriend’s. His hand made sounds against his magic, and he let his boyfriend watch him jack himself off. For good measure, he ran his other hand up his shirt, showing off the bottom of his rib cage as he moaned. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Red rubbed his head into the sheets. “You do all this just to tease me?”

Sans grinned before unleashing his cock, letting his magic glow outside of the fabric and showing it off, a bead of precum already leaking out the top. “I don’t have any idea what you mean.” Red groaned. “I’m just getting ready.”

“Well, hurry up and do whatever the fuck you’re gonna do! You’re killin’ me here.” He was begging now. 

“I need to focus.” No, he didn’t. He was ready to do what he wanted to. But he liked seeing Red squirm against his bondage in under stimulated arousal. 

“Sweetheart, come on.” He smiled, trying to be pleasing. “Touch me. You know you want to. Just do it. Come on.” Sans raised a brow, biting his knuckle as the tension in him rose. 

“What’s the m-hagic word?”

Red smirked. “Green.” Sans chuckled. “Please.”

Sans hummed, finally moving from his position. He gently took Red’s knees and spread them apart. His ankles crossed and lay spread eagle in front of him, his cock standing and glowing in the new position. Sans pinned Red’s legs to the bed with his own. Red hissed at the stretch, his eyes hungry for what was going to come. 

Sans lowered his pelvis, leaning forward until the cocks touched. They both moaned at the contact, Red biting the duvet in an attempt to stifle them. Red’s magic was hot, and boiled from lack of release. Sans’s was electric and so close that it’s energy easily bounced through Red’s body like a lightning bolt. He leant over his boyfriend, one hand on the bed to hold himself up, the other coming to their connected cocks. 

“Holy fuck.” Red’s eyelights watched Sans’s hand like it was a car crash – knowing what was going to happen but unable to look away regardless. 

Sans let his fingers rest on the top side of Red’s dick, lay his palm slowly on the side of both of their magic, and then hooked his thumb on the topside of his own. He squeezed pressing them together. Red cursed. He let his grip pulse ever so lightly, his fingers pressing one at a time. It was a final attempt at teasing, pulling shameful mewls from Red and pleas for motion. 

He had made him wait long enough. 

Hell, he had waited long enough. 

Finally, Sans moved his hand down both their shafts, and then back up to their heads, the magical flesh squishing and burning pleasurably at the contact and motion. Red groaned into the sheets, his toes curling. 

Sans was so close. He had to make it last longer. So, he took his time, moving his hand slowly, forcing himself to keep his hips still despite Red’s helpless wriggling. Red kept mewling into the sheets as Sans took his time. His pleasure was building in him, rising and filling and exciting his magic to near ecstasy. Red turned his head away from the covers and looked at Sans breathlessly. He lifted his neck, opening his mouth and letting his tongue loll out. “Fuckin’ kiss me. Please.” He was bewitching. 

Sans went down to lean on his elbow, smashing his skull against Red’s, kissing him immediately, deeply. He suckled on Red’s tongue, pulling it and sucking, controlling the pace of their undulating. Red breathed against him, desperate for more as his magic heated up. 

He was losing his sense of control. He let Red distract him. His hand sped up without a thought, pressing and squeezing and stroking fast and, before he knew it, his pleasure overflowed its threshold and he came. The twitching of his cock and a sudden orgasmic clench from his hand brought Red over the edge. Their cum shot out, splattering against their chests and their chins. Sans practically bit Red’s tongue as he rode it out, unwittingly rocking his pelvis forward. 

The froze in place in the afterglow. Maybe it was in an attempt to make the moment last longer. Or maybe he was just afraid to move, worried his bones would collapse. 

Regardless, Sans let their cocks go. They didn’t disappear immediately as they held residual arousal. He let go of Red’s tongue, giving him a farewell peck as he crawled off of him. He lounged back next to his tied up lover, leaning on his wrists as he caught his breath. His boyfriend did the same, trying to catch his breath as he let his knees come back together. When he had a modicum of his senses back, Sans looked at his shirt. He was going to have to wash it. He let his eye lights trail over to Red. His ribs were stained with pink and cyan juices, like some kind of sexual Pollock painting.

Sans lay down and leaned over, crawling partially onto Red’s chest and licking the colors off. Red hummed, arching into the contact. 

When Sans was satisfied, he sat up and brought his boyfriend with him. He started undoing the knots. Red’s feet were let free first and he sighed as he moved them away from his pelvis, stretching them out in front of him and wiggling his toes. As Sans continued, he saw the red marks it left behind on Red’s bones. He touched them gently with his fingertips and Red silently hissed. “Was it too tight?” The panic was apparent in his voice. He wanted to tease his boyfriend, not mark him. Red turned his head, looking at Sans through his side socket. 

“It was fucking amazing and don’t you dare apologize for it.”

The surety and confidence and pure fucking authenticity of the statement made Sans grab Red’s neck, pull him back against his chest, and kiss him. Red melted into him before speaking through the kiss, “Could you still untie me? I wanna use my hands again.” He got back to work, making quick work of the knots until the blue binding rope was completely off and Red was able to roll his shoulders. Sans hadn’t finished rolling the rope back up before Red turned around and practically leapt on him, pushing him against the duvet as his fingers clawed Sans through his shirt. “You need to surprise me more often.”

As Red crawled on him, kissing his neck and licking his bones, Sans mentally promised to so do this again. Red’s reaction was just too priceless to let this be a one night experiment. But that was a goal for another day. For now, he just wanted to kiss his boyfriend. 

So he did.


	6. Day 6: Masks and Blowjobs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Masks and Blowjobs  
Pairing: SpicyHoney
> 
> Stretch has been wanting to pleasure Edge since they started dating. When he realizes why his boyfriend is so hesitant to receive, Stretch finds the perfect loophole to get his way.

Stretch didn’t want to brag, but he gave the best blowjobs. It was a god given gift that allowed him to summon earth-shattering orgasms buy sucking on cocks. He hadn’t needed to practice to get this skill, puberty had just blessed him with a divine knowledge in how to treat someone in the best possible way. 

This was why he so desperately wanted to give his boyfriend a blowjob. 

Edge was a completely selfless lover. Every time they had sex, Edge rarely left the bed having orgasmed. He focused so much on treating Stretch and wrecking his body with multiple releases that, by the time they were finished and Edge went to the bathroom, Stretch was too tired to protest and follow. When he was able to attempt something, he would lower himself into position, but Edge would pull him back up and shove his fingers against whatever Stretch’s magic had summoned. He couldn’t make it happen in the moment. He never had the energy or willpower because Edge could easily tire him out and distract him. 

So, despite the discomfort of bringing it up outside of the bedroom, Stretch paused the program they were watching to ask what the fuck was up. It was the only time Edge couldn’t resolve the matter by orgasming Stretch into silence. 

“Why won’t you let me give you a blowjob?” He asked nonchalantly. Edge’s face went scarlet and he stammered for something to say. 

“BUH – PFFT – WHA – WE’RE WATCHING CSI!” Yes, it was tradition. 

“That’s irrelevant to my question.” 

“TURN THE SHOW BACK ON.”

“No.” Edge flailed forward, trying to take the remote from Stretch’s hand. He leaned back, playing keep away, and when Edge got close, Stretch threw it across the room. Edge growled, stood up to go collect the controller, but was stopped by Stretch holding his wrist. “Darling, come on.”

Edge whipped his head, glaring at his boyfriend. Stretch just gave his best puppy dog eyes. “STOP DOING THAT,” he demanded. Stretch made his eye lights – tiny little barely visible pinpricks that rested deep in his skull – big and bright and sparkling as he jutted out his lower jaw. “OH, NOT THE FACE.” Stretch was in complete control. Edge could only resist for so long before he groaned in defeat. “FINE, I’LL TALK JUST STOP WITH THE... THAT.”

Stretch let his eye lights shrink back down and smiled, gently tugging his boyfriend to sit beside him again. He crossed his arms. “Why won’t you let me gi-“

“I REMEMBER THE QUESTION, THANK YOU!” His face just got a deeper Red. “IT’S DEMEANING.”

Stretch furrowed his brow, uncertain of what he meant. “It’s demeaning to be pleasured?”

“NO! IT’S DEMEANING TO GIVE IT!” Stretch wracked his mind, a realization coming to him. 

“You’ve never given me a blowjob.” Edge just tightened his grip on himself. Stretch leant toward him, placing a hand on his arm. “Edge, you don’t have to give me one in return. I just want-“

“I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU LIKE THAT!” He waited for his boyfriend to elaborate. “TO GIVE A BLOWJOB... TO HAVE FLUID ON YOUR FACE AND HAVE SUCH A GRIMEY PART OF THE BODY IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’S... I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU IN THAT POSITION.” He kept his gaze away. “YOU’RE BETTER THAN THAT.”

“You won’t let me give you a blowjob... cause you don’t want to see me giving you a blowjob?”

Edge shrugged. 

Stretch new exactly what he needed to do. After turning the show back on, he immediately started searching the internet. He found what needed, ordered it and waited patiently for it to arrive. When it did, Stretch took Edge into the kitchen where the box sat on the table. “Open it,” he ordered. 

“I DON’T REMEMBER ORDERING ANYTHING.”

“Just... come on, darlin’, humor me,” he begged. Edge took scissors out of the drawer and dug into the tape, lifted the flaps and pulled out the gift. 

In his red gloved hands sat a leather hood with a single gaping hole and a zipper on the back. Edge turned it in his hands, trying to put pieces together in his head. Finally, he put a hand on his hip and held the mask out to Stretch. “I GIVE UP. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE.” He took it from his boyfriend, feeling the lined mask against his bones. It would be comfortable enough. 

“This is what’s gonna allow me to give you a blowjob.”

Edge went scarlet again. “WE TALKED ABOUT THIS AND I MADE IT CLEAR-“

“Can you just give me a chance? Okay? Just... Just come into the bedroom in ten minutes and if you think it’s not gonna work then you can just say the word. But please.” He stepped toward him. Stretch was a smidge shorter than his boyfriend – mostly because Edge wore high heeled boots – so he had to crane his head up a little bit to speak into his skull. “I want to make you feel good.” He could feel and hear the shiver that wracked Edge’s spine. He groaned. 

“OH, FINE! BUT IF I DON’T LIKE IT-“

“We’ll stop immediately, promise.” Edge searched his boyfriend for any sense of deviance. Finally, he nodded. Edge kissed him on the cheek before bounding up the stairs. 

The first thing he needed to do was get the suit. If Edge didn’t want to see him in a demeaning position, then he would dress like someone who was worth the hype. He yanked on his black slacks, socks, and shiny shoes before buttoning and tucking in his white shirt. He hurriedly buttoned the vest and put the jacket on. He stood in the middle of the room, holding the mask in his hands. It only had one hole. That was for his mouth. He was going to be in the dark for the whole experience. Ideally, he would’ve been able to see Edge’s pleasure as he gave it, but it was more important to him that he was able to do it at all. He didn’t need a view. 

He took the hood and easily slipped it over his skull. His jaw had free movement, but his nose was covered – not to mention his eyes. It was pitch black. He lost almost all orientation and did his best to stay calm. The lining of the mask was soft and velvety against his bones. When he zipped the back, it wasn’t uncomfortably tight, but certainly tight enough that he felt snug. The fit did comfort him a little, but not terribly. What he really wanted was for Edge to just come in and accept his presentation. 

He did a final adjustment of the mask before standing straight and putting his hands behind his back. He had considered buying leather gloves to match, but he really wanted his hands to maintain all the sensitivity they could. Touch was presently his main sense and he didn’t want to lose it. He was going to do what he did best with his eyes closed. He was sure he could, but he didn’t want to handicap any other senses to add further difficulty. 

He didn’t stand at attention for long before he heard the bedroom door open. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” The question was serious and unamused. Stretch was worried that Edge was still going to reject him. 

He put a hand at his middle and bowed over it, a deep and admiring gesture to show Edge his sense of formality. He stood up, not entirely upright as he leant forward, and reached a hand out. It was straight in front of him. He prayed his boyfriend was still standing at the door – what he faced before things went dark. He didn’t move as he waited. He didn’t want to say anything in case that spurred Edge to end this. 

He heard familiar boots walk on the plush carpet. Then, to his pleasant surprise, Edge put his hand in Stretch’s. He stood the rest of the way up, unable to contain his smile. He pulled his boyfriend forward and felt him get closer. He reached another hand out and placed it on Edge’s chest. He felt his way blindly up to Papyrus’s cheek. Using that to aim, he kissed him. He was slightly off, but moved true to his target. Edge melted into it. 

But he hadn’t set this up just to kiss. 

He held his hand steady as he got down on his knees. Smooth sailing so far. He lowered the hand from Edge’s chest down to his belt. He felt the loop that kept the worn leather in place. He brought his other hand over to help blindly undo the clasp. He moved slowly, fumbling every now and then but doing an overall successful job. 

He could hear Edge’s breath coming out in unsteady breaths. He was nervous. Stretch wondered how long that would last. 

With the belt undone, he pulled the button free and unzipped his fly. He felt the heat coming from the opening immediately. The mask was too thick for him to see the surely scarlet magic that had pooled and accumulated in Edge’s pelvis. He held Edge’s hips steady with his hands as he slowly moved his head forward. He felt Edge try to step back, but his steady grip kept him in place so he could nuzzle the forming magic. Nothing had manifested yet, so he just felt the heat of the burning energy against his teeth. 

He wanted to ask Edge to form his dick, make this process speed up a little bit. But, even though his boyfriend knew who was wearing the mask, he didn’t want to present any reminders. And his voice would certainly be a trigger. 

Instead, he put his head against his thigh and removed one hand to try and form his cock. He pulled and teased the magic, making it stretch outside of itself to reach his touch. He couldn’t see how it was forming, but he let muscle memory take over until he felt something solid appear. It was thick. Very thick. His fingers couldn’t meet around it. Not even his thumb and middle finger could while curved around the shaft. 

Out of curiousity, he stretched his thumb and pinkie far apart. He knew that distance was roughly eight inches. He place his pinky at the base of the shaft and stretched his thumb across. It touched his head but didn’t reach the tip. He felt the remaining space and swallowed out of nerves. Edge’s penis was at least nine inches long. 

Stretch wracked his brain. He couldn’t remember sucking a dick that big before.

Okay. He’d be sucking the biggest cock he’d ever sucked while blindfolded. Totally doable. He was nervous, but it was possible. 

He lifted his head and let the dick rub the side of his face. It wasn’t particularly pleasurable, but he let himself moan, trailing his fingers against the hot ecto-flesh. Edge’s breath hitched. 

Stretch turned his head, rubbing his teeth on the side of the shaft before letting his tongue come out. He licked up all the way to the head, feeling the hole at the tip and giving it a gentle kiss. 

“Sh-Shit,” Edge gasped. He got unsteady. Stretch returned his hand to his hip to keep him in place. He kissed the tip again before going down the other side of the cock, letting his wet tongue move and wiggle, coating it well with his saliva. Everywhere he touched was warm, like bread that had just come out of the oven. It was soothing and enticing and he wanted more. 

He moved back to the head and took a moment to form a throat. He’d never met another skeleton monster that did that. They always sort of had one that would instinctually behave to dissolve food and react with entering magic. But he was the ultimate dick-sucker. He had a patented ecto-throat that was tight and moist and that he could clench and squish on command. 

“Wh-What are you – AH!” It wasn’t a yell of objection, but pleasure. How could he hold it in? Especially when Stretch took his head into his mouth, swirling his tongue on the tip before pulling back and going further on, back and, with the next stroke, all the way down to his base. It was a lot of length, the head of the penis touching the very bowels of his ecto-throat. He rarely felt a need to gag, but he felt it now. 

Maybe Edge didn’t want to subject anyone to suffer in an attempt to pleasure something so big? Good thing Stretch liked rising to challenges. He let his tongue curl and spin around the shaft and pulled himself off, letting his throat go empty for a moment before taking him again. He hummed, letting his ecto-flesh vibrate. Edge moaned in pleasure, his hands coming to the back of Stretch’s hooded skull. He held him, aiding in the push and pull of Stretch’s ministrations. He moved like the tides and Edge was consenting to every moment. His fingers pressed against the zipper and pulled on the seams. He was putting a rather excessive amount of effort into it. At times, Stretch felt rushed to take him all the way again and again. 

He could feel the dick twitching in his throat. 

He’d rarely seen Edge orgasm. He didn’t know all of his tells. So he didn’t know what the forced breathing through his nasal cavity meant. Or the curl of his fingers. So, when Edge thrusted hard down Stretch’s throat, he was surprised. He clenched his eyes, feeling tears appear on the sides of his sockets. 

He didn’t object. He continued to hold Edge’s hips. He wanted to bring him pleasure. And, if fucking his mouth was how his boyfriend could find that, he wouldn’t deny him. He let him use him. He let him thrust into his face and pull his skull closer to his pelvis. With every movement his bones clacked against his boyfriend’s pelvis. He couldn’t hide all of his little sounds of pleasure and pain. He kept trying to keep his tongue as an active player. He still wanted to participate. He didn’t want to be just an object. So, he made his own spin. He let his teeth gently rake against Edge’s cock. He used his tongue to lick over the lines. And, when the thrusts started to get fast and frantic, he just let his mouth hang open, his tongue lolling out so it moved with every thrust. 

They got fast and pounding. The grip on his head became a thorough hold. The cock hit the back of his throat each and every time and tears rolled down his face under the mask. He hadn’t expected to enjoy feeling used, but there was something undeniably hot about this. 

His boyfriend never did anything to bring him pleasure. Now, in this moment, he was using Stretch as a means to a climax. He was proud to play that role. So proud that he could feel his own magic pooling to his pelvis. He liked being used like this. He liked being treated like a tool. He wasn’t giving his best ultimate blowjob, but he was providing Edge’s version of it. 

He fulfilled his mission when Edge finished with one final thrust. He felt the cum spurt into the space in his throat. He eagerly swallowed it down, letting his throat squeeze over the cock, milking every last bit of jizz out of his boyfriend. Edge hunched over, breathing heavily as he collected himself. 

Stretch felt the ecto-penis dissolve in his mouth. He couldn’t help but gasp when his mouth was empty again. At the sound, he felt hands frantically fumble with the zipper on the back of his hood. He heard Edge get on the ground as he yanked the hood off. He tossed it to the side and grabbed the sides of Stretch’s face, looking him over. 

“I’M SORRY. I’M SO SO SORRY. I SHOULDN’T HAVE TREATED YOU LIKE THAT IT WAS INCREDIBLY SHAMEFUL. ARE YOU OKAY? DID I HURT YOU?”

Stretch put his hands on his boyfriend’s wrists in borderline shock. “You’re a face-fucker.”

“DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT.”

“No, it makes perfect sense. You didn’t want me to suck you off cause you’re a face-fucker!”

“YES! I AM, OKAY? STOP SMILING LIKE THAT!”

Stretch hadn’t even realized he was smiling. It all made sense now. His reluctance was out of fear of putting him in a demeaning position – because Edge liked to face-fuck which was inherently demeaning. He didn’t want to watch Stretch be in pain or in shock or feel disgust in realization of what Edge did. 

Boy did he have a curveball for him. 

He grabbed Edge’s face with both his hands and planted a kiss on him. Edge made a noise of protest and pushed him away. 

“WHY WOULD YOU KISS ME? I JUST TREATED YOU LIKE AN OBJECT.”

Stretch raised a brow, his smile widening. “Yeah, and it was incredibly hot.” Edge was taken aback by the reaction. “Darlin’, you’ve never let me pleasure you, ever. You know that right?”

Edge scratched the side of his skull. “I’m just a really... giving lover.”

“No. You’re a sadistic face-fucker.” 

“HEY.”

“No judgement!” He took his hands in his. “Look, if you need to... to use me to get pleasure, do it. I want you to feel good. I want you to be satisfied and blissed out and if you need to face-fuck me to do it-“

“PLEASE STOP CALLING IT THAT.”

“Then you’re welcome to use me.” Edge looked away. Stretch cupped his cheek, making him look at him. “You treat me so well each and every time. So let me return the favor.”

“Y... YOU REALLY DON’T MIND?”

Stretch smiled wide. “I don’t mind. In fact, I volunteer.” Edge actually smiled. “And we can use the mask so-“

“ACTUALLY... COULD... COULD WE DO THAT AGAIN BUT... THIS TIME... LET ME LOOK AT YOU?”

Stretch blushed in excitement and flattery. “Choose the position, darlin’.”

Edge cautiously arranged them on the bed, keeping Stretch in his suit and in position so he could easily manipulate the entire situation to his liking. Stretch didn’t care. He was happy to be used. Because for the first time in their relationship, Stretch would be able to see Edge’s face during an orgasm. 

He couldn’t wait to start.


	7. Day 7: Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Aphrodisiacs and scent (accumulating into a heat kink)  
Pairing: Kustard
> 
> Red is trapped in a car with a Sans who's in heat. Hijinks ensue.

Red sat in the car, bouncing his leg and checking his phone, waiting patiently for Sans to come to the car. He had been babysitting for Toriel, but he got sick while there and needed to come home immediately. He was waiting for his brother to arrive in order to pass off the kid baton, and then he’d need a ride back home. Why Sans couldn’t just teleport home, Red couldn’t figure. But he was glad to help his datemate. 

So, he sat parked on the street waiting. He watched Papyrus pull up to the house in his bright red convertible – much shinier than Red’s old rusted truck - and hop into the house. Red picked his teeth. Finally, Sans came out, closing the house door behind him. 

He never had good posture. But boy was he carrying himself like a criminal. He had his hood up and his head down. His hands were stiff in his pockets and he shuffled his feet. None of this was particularly out of the ordinary. It was how he walked like a sulk. Normally he seemed to be weightless and lazily carefree. Today, every step seemed to be dragging hundreds of pounds of exra weight, like moving was painful. 

He had said he was sick. Maybe Red would have to take him to a doctor?

Sans didn’t look up when he grabbed the truck door handle, swung it open, and hopped into the passenger seat. He slammed the door, making all the air around them move. And that’s when it hit Red. He covered his nasal cavity and threw himself against his own door in surprise at the aromatic slap in the face.

Like walking under a grocery store heater in the winter, the air in the truck became hot. The scent was difficult to pinpoint. It was musky and stinky, displeasing like garbage but alluring like a home cooked meal. There were traces of pine tree, firewood, clean laundry, couch cushions, and bar food. It was Sans’s normal smell turned up to eleven. It filled all of Red’s senses, going through his nose and filling every nook and crack between his bones, trying to possess him to do its bidding. 

His knuckles went white as he squeezed the ledge of the door. 

Sans turned his head. The simple gesture made the smell move again, as if Red was hit by it for the first time for a second time. He peered at Red around the fabric of his hood, his eye light glowing a bright blue and creating a vapor that escaped its socket and floated to the roof of the truck. He gave an ashamed smile. “Hey, babe.” The words were silk ribbon against his bones, enticing and caressing, beckoning Red towards him. 

He clenched the car door harder, physically trying to stop himself from attacking his boyfriend. 

“Probably shoulda warned ya,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. The wave of intoxicating smell rolled over him again. His whole body shuddered. He wanted to speak, but he didn’t trust himself to. His magic was lighting up, his soul spinning in excitement. “You’re, uh... I’m distractin’ you, aren’t I?” 

THAT WAS CERTAINLY A WAY TO PUT IT. 

Red nodded before cracking open the window. He angled his face toward it, desperately trying to block out the intoxicating air. He wanted to open the window more, but he didn’t want anyone else smelling his boyfriend’s musk. Not all monsters would show such restraint. 

“Can you drive?”

Red nodded, lifting a finger to ask for an extra moment. He could drive. He was stronger than this smell. His willpower would win. Sans tucked into his seat, trying to be as quiet as possible as Red finally turned on the ignition. The smell of burning gas coming from his lemon helped to mask Sans’s scent. It allowed him to form coherent thoughts. And as soon as he could, he said, 

“Yeah, you shoulda told me.” The smell crawled into his mouth, exciting his magic and triggering his tongue to manifest. He bit it in frustration. “Since when do you get heats?”

Sans shrugged. “I get ‘em about every three years.” The smell fluctuated again. It was practically water around them, reacting to every movement either of them dared to make. 

“Three years?” Red couldn’t help his surprise. He personally had a heat every six months. Whenever he did, he just spent the weekend alone and jacked off until it died down. Every monster’s heat cycle was different, but he’d never heard anyone going three years before. “Lucky you, I guess.”

Sans huffed a laugh. “Makes it hard to plan when ya don’t think about it for so long.” Red could practically feel his boyfriend’s eyes on him. Like burning little flames heating his skin where his gaze rested. “Trust me, I wouldn’t plan to babysit when –“

“I get it,” Red interjected. “Just stop talking.” It was mean, but Sans nodded in understanding. Red had the patience of a fucking saint to have kept his hands to himself for this long. Everything Sans did was just another variant of saying ‘come hither’. So he stopped interacting. He sat completely still. He didn’t speak. Hell, he seemed to stop breathing.

But it didn’t help. The truck was saturated in Sans’s scent. It was a drug, filling Red up. His tongue had summoned and he could feel the hard on stretching against his shorts. It was like dying from dehydration and coming up to an ocean of fresh water. His grip strained against the steering wheel and he tried to hold his breath. All he could smell was Sans. Taste – Sans. See those pristine bones in crystal clear quality in his skull. 

He pulled into their car’s parking garage, turning off the car and trying desperately to think clearly. All he could see was his boyfriend. He closed his sockets and still saw him. When he opened his sockets, Sans was still looking at him. “Thanks for the ride,” Sans said. “Sorry th-“

Red didn’t let him finish. With the car off, all he had to do was angrily tear at his seatbelt before launching himself through the space between them, pushing Sans down and back against the passenger door, and kissing him. It was hard and messy, his tongue coming out early to lick Sans’s still clenched teeth. The pours of his bones were producing a sweat that tasted like holy nectar to Red’s formed magic. Sans was hesitant at first, but couldn’t resist his instincts either and opened for Red, taking his tongue and sucking on it. 

Red growled, clawing his hands down Sans’s shirt, tearing the fabric as he went before ripping the apparel off and touching Sans’s ribs. His bones were hot, magic flaring and glowing off of him like he was a blue campfire, feeling just as enticing. 

“Fuck, Red,” Sans moaned, holding Red’s head close to his chest. “Shit, god, fuck.” He arched his neck, bending against his awkward position. Red tried to straddle him, but his legs couldn’t rest right around his boyfriend. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He couldn’t see anymore. When he opened his eyes, all that was there was Sans.

Sans was sprawled, out of breath, his shirt torn and his bones glowing blue. Red just drank in the view. It was relieving to have his sight match the smell that still flowed through his marrow. 

Sans looked to him, his eye lights sending a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to his cock. “Fuck me. Please.”

He didn’t even need to ask. Red pulled his pants down enough to free his cock. He hurriedly untied the string of Sans’s sweatpants before removing them just far enough for Red to have access to his boyfriend’s pussy. It was shining so brightly that it was almost hard to look at. He dared to touch the formed genitalia with his fingers. 

It was sopping wet with thick discharge. He brought a swatch of it up to his face between his thumb and forefinger, testing the fluid before licking it off. It was tart, sharp, and borderline alcoholic like vanilla extract. 

And it was like doing a drug. 

Sans grabbed the saftey handle above his door in preparation for what Red was about to do. He straightened Sans’s hips quickly before sliding himself in. He was positively heavenly. The pussy squeezed him just right and practically pulled against his shaft, begging him to go deeper. 

The first thrust was the only gentle movement Red made. As soon as he was in, he bent over Sans, gripped the leather seat, and started pounding into him. Their pelvises slammed together. His cock hit Sans’s cervix so hard that Sans screamed in pain and pleasure, wondering if the magical tissue had torn. The ecto body started to form, ready to accept whatever seed would inevitably come. And come soon based on Red’s ruthless pace. 

Red couldn’t see anything as he moved. He just felt the strain of his bones, the softness of Sans’s magic, the cold leather against his burning hands that seemed to be unaffected by the boiling air that stunk of pure, unadulterated, Comic Sans Gaster. His skull kept hitting the door and his tongue lolled out, losing himself to the pleasure as Red’s intensity just got stronger. His body was on fire. His mind was turned mad and he just couldn’t get deep enough. He tried and tried, hilting himself faster and faster, the in and out of his cock making a schlopping sound that Red couldn’t hear well over the smell in the truck. 

His orgasm came as a surprise, his grip on Sans’s hips moving them at an angle that allowed Red to completely unload in him. He saw his cum float into Sans’s ecto-body, looking like a lave lamp as the fluid moved in the translucent flesh. 

Sans was gasping for air, his whole head sweating and his eyes blissed out from orgasm, letting Red use his body to milk out whatever else he could. 

For a brief moment, Red could see clearly again. He saw his exhausted partner, his ripped shirt, and the claw marks he left on his ribs. He bent over him, cradling his back, and then teleported them to their apartment’s bedroom. The duvet was like velvet under his knees in comparison to the front seat of his truck. 

The air of the bedroom also hadn’t been contaminated yet. So he had time to prep. 

He pulled himself out of Sans, his pussy trying to keep Red in as he exited, and scrambled off the bed. He was almost dizzy as he stumbled into the kitchen, his still erect dick bouncing with every ill-paced step. He grabbed two bottles of water, the leftover pasta they had in the fridge, and as many condiments as he could fit into his arms before stumbling back to Sans. In the time he’d been gone, the bedroom had gotten almost as infected as his truck. 

Sans’s eyelights turned to him, a smile on his face. “I was gonna say you could leave if you had to, but I guess you’re gonna help me through this instead?”

“You guess?!” Red laughed as he hobbled over to the bed, dropping everything on the rug except for a bottle of water, which he opened and gave to Sans. He gladly drank it. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world.”

Sans smiled. “Then you better practice your aim.”

Red hated that joke. He kissed Sans, getting back on top of him and letting his thrumming dick rest against Sans’s clit.

He was gonna show Sans just how accurate his aim was.


	8. Day 8: Breeding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Oviposition  
Pairing: cross-species MapleBlossom
> 
> Papyrus is infatuated with a mythical creature called a lamia. And then he meets one.

Papyrus had spent many a night in the Librarby researching different types of monsters. As a future member of the royal guard, it was incredibly important for him to have a good understanding of all monsters so he could know how to best protect them. 

He read about many creatures, ones that he’d known and ones he couldn’t dream of. There were standard humanoid animals – bunnies and dogs and lizards, the kind that were most prevalent in the underground. There were amphibious monsters, like Undyne, and elementals like Grillby. There was a single page on skeleton monsters. Apparently “his kind” were rare and could be a variant of any other type of monster. Apparently, there were also centaurs and griffons, moving trees and rocks that lived millions of years, and then there were lamias. 

For some reason he was always drawn to the page on lamias. 

The half snake creatures were huge, reaching lengths up to fifty feet depending on what monster they were mixed with. They were most commonly mixed with amphibious monsters and were, on average, thirty feet long. They were omnivorous and cold-blooded. They mated for life and were fiercely loyal – loyal to the point that they often died for their mate. It was hideously romantic and Papyrus was born to be a hopeless victim of lovesickness. 

He just never thought that his born destiny or his odd fascination would mix. 

It was a fateful day when the lamia broke into his shed. It was a skeleton variant – grossly rare – and looked panicked and hurt. It was dormant with pain and Papyrus couldn’t help but heal it. He gave it his magic and bound up the wounds that were too deep to fix. And then the creature woke up. It’s panicked eye lights landed on Papyrus for a split second before it bolted, breaking everything in the shed and knocking the door off its hinges as it went. 

It had such beautiful purple eye lights, one’s that matched its gorgeous tail. 

He was immediately in love.

He had half a mind to leave bait out to bring it back, but, to his luck and surprise, it returned without prompt. A particularly bad blizzard had passed through Snowdin and the lamia seemed to take refuge in Papyrus’s shed. It was still as death, but it’s soul still pulsed with life. Papyrus hurriedly gathered all the blankets and pillows from the house and put them in the shed. He lifted the frozen creature and arranged him into a perfectly warm nest. For good measure (he promised it was a necessity, but he also couldn’t help himself), he got in the nest with the lamia and cuddled up to it, trying to transfer the heat of his body and soul over to it. 

He fell asleep there that night. He only woke up when he felt something flick against his nose. He opened his sockets to come face to face with those slitted purple eye lights. The creature cocked it’s head to the side, flicked it’s tongue one more time, and then made its way out. It went slower this time, not damaging the whole shed and actually stopping at the door to look back at Papyrus. 

He pleaded for the creature to come back. But it crawled out and its purple tail disappeared into the snow. 

The third time it came, the lamia didn’t seem to have anything wrong with it. Papyrus just came to check on the prison bars in the shed when he saw the lamia sitting in the corner, its tail coiled and ready to launch it. 

Stars, it was gorgeous. Its bones were pristine and pure, glowing purple with the power of its magic. Its tail was covered in little scales that glittered like stars. And its face... it was so soft and intuitive. It didn’t look aggressive as much as it looked curious. 

Papyrus slowly approached it, half expecting it to bolt. It rolled its shoulders but didn’t dare move. “Hello, little one.” It was a lie. This lamia was certainly not little. Its tail was at least thirty feet on its own. 

“You’re niccccccccce,” the creature hissed. It was the first time he heard it talk and Papyrus couldn’t help but blush. Its voice was thick and raspy from underuse, and simultaneously alluring. 

“Thank you,” Papyrus said. “You’re very pretty.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the lamia smiled. 

“You protect,” it purred. It crawled toward Papyrus with its claws instead of the massive strength of its tail. “You protect me.”

“I have,” Papyrus confirmed, daring to step forward. The lamia leaned up and Papyrus leaned down, their faces were nearly level. “How could I not protect something so exquisite?”

The lamia definitely smiled this time. It finally used the muscles of its tail to curl around the back of Papyrus, making a loop before returning to face him. “You have mate?” It asked, slowly spinning around him. Papyrus slowly spun, too, keeping his eyes on the lamia with every turn. 

“I... I don’t.” Monsters were integral to their souls. If one desired, they could bond their soul with another and become mates. Papyrus always dreamed of being someone’s mate, but he never thought it would come to pass. 

“I have no mate,” the lamia hissed. It had spun around him five times now. Oddly, Papyrus didn’t feel trapped. 

“Why not?” he asked. 

“Monstersss sssssscared. Monsters only attack.” Its eyes went downcast. Papyrus thought back to that first meeting, when it was wounded and bleeding. Its gaze popped back up, full of magic and hope. “You no attack. You protect.”

Papyrus nodded, holding his hands out in a pacifying gesture. “I could never attack someone as beautiful as you.” He meant it. Something deep inside him, something burried in the deepest part of himself told him the moment he met the lamia that he could not harm the creature. He didn’t want to. He wanted to do quite the opposite. He wanted to treat it like royalty.

“You always protect?”

“Yes.”

“Promissssssse?” The lamia offered a hand. The book had almost nothing in it about lamia culture or customs. But something in Papyrus – that same part the told him he wouldn’t harm the lamia, that he loved the lamia – knew that the handshake was a deal. A life changing deal. And one that his soul was desperate to jump into. 

“Promise.” He took the lamia’s hand. Its palm was warm like a blanket straight out of the drier. It smiled widely. 

“Mate.”

Papyrus blinked in confusion. “Wha-“ The lamia lurched forward, it’s top part grabbing Papyrus in a hug and its tail spinning and tightening, binding Papyrus’s body to itself. It wasn’t painfully tight, but it was certainly taking control of him. 

“Mate will protect them.”

“Protect who?” he dared to ask. He didn’t dislike the contact, but he was certainly out of his element. 

“Protect mate.” Its tongue flicked against his neck. Its body squeezed and tightened, pressing tight against Papyrus’s bones. “Mate will love mate.” Its words were like a drug, making Papyrus feel things in his marrow, relaxing and tensing at the same time. Braced and ready to receive. “Mate will...” 

The lamia put a hand up Papyrus’s battle body, reaching to the middle of his ribcage and grabbing Papyrus’s soul in hand. He couldn’t help the moan that released from him as his nerves fired off in pure unadulterated pleasure. The lamia took his soul out, holding it in his hands as he squeezed his body tight. “Beautiful,” it purred. “Mate is beautiful.”

“Th-Thank you,” he couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. The lamia smelled a certain way. Like the forest, and like fine pasta, and garlic and dew on flowers. He was completely overstimulated. His bones rattled in anticipation. The lamia painstakingly brought Papyrus’s soul to its mouth and licked. “Ha-Hoh my god!” The lamia looked at him in surprise. “That felt very good.”

“Mate like?”

“Oh, I like it very much, yes.”

“Mate will like more.” The lamia cradled Papyrus’s soul as it pulled its own from its ribs. “Will like.” In a single gesture, it put their souls together. Papyrus mewled shamefully and the lamia tightened, a tremble going all the way down its tail and going into Papyrus’s bones. The creature held Papyrus by the shoulders, curling into him as they rode out the first contact. “Mate will protect mate.”

“You... You keep saying that,” Papyrus moaned, searching for the right words. “What does it mean?” The lamia slipped both souls up inside Papyrus’s ribcage. When he drew his hand out, Papyrus could feel his whole ecto body form. An abdomen, thighs, shoulder muscles, and genitalia dripping with arousal underneath his tights. The lamia, as if reading his mind, put its hand on his crotch. 

“You protect,” it said, deftly removing Papyrus’s shorts and tearing his tights. He licked the side of Papyrus’s face. “You protect them.” It took Papyrus’s hand in his own and put it on its chest. It gave it an extra thump for good measure. “Protect you.”

“I protect you and you protect me,” Papyrus summed up. It purred in what Papyrus could only assume was confirmation. The lamia had a large part of his tail resting against Papyrus’s back, allowing him to almost lounge as the creature explored him with his fingers. It was clumsy. It had never done something like this before. It was going off of pure instinct and intuition. “So, who’s them?”

The lamia looked directly into Papyrus’s sockets with its glowing purple slits. Hands on his shoulders, it ground against him. Papyrus felt something enter him. It wasn’t either of the lamia’s hands. Whatever it was, it was warm and easily slipped into Papyrus. It went deep though, reaching past his cervix and into his abdomen. It felt soft inside him. “Them you.” 

Papyrus furrowed his brow before gasping in pain. Something... Something passed through the hollow tube inside him. It stretched the flesh of his ecto-vagina wide. It went wider than it ever should have and stretched through him, moving up and up until it passed his cervix – that was the truly painful bit – before it popped through and entered his abdomen. As soon as it passed, Papyrus could feel himself relax. Only then he felt another one coming. 

He winced and gasped and arched his back and head. The lamia held him tight, its warm body acting as a compress, trying to calm Papyrus down so he could accept anything the monster needed to give. 

He lay back. He tried to let the pain just flow through him like a wave. A stretch, a press, a through, a snap and a pop and a breath. He clung tightly to the lamia, wanting anything to ground him as his body quaked and shook.

Three. 

Four.

“You good,” the lamia purred, nuzzling Papyrus’s neck. “You do good.”

“I – hah! – I’m not entirely sure wh-HAHt I’m doing.” The lamia kissed his cheek. Stars that felt good. The things filling him up hurt on entrance but rested heavy in him. He wanted something to distract from the repetitive motion. 

He turned his head to kiss the lamia’s cheek. If possible, it seemed to blush before continuing. It kissed him again. And again and again, in places all around his mouth. Papyrus grabbed the lamia’s face, unsatisfied with the chaste pecks and wanting something more. He nearly screamed into the kiss, the things entering him still hurting. The lamia silenced him, using its thin and more agile tongue to wrap around Papyrus’s own. It sucked on him. He let his jaw hang as it distracted him, pleasuring him in two locations, one in pain and one in complete and utter bliss. He knew he was being loud. He knew he was making gross sounds and that he was feeling more and more full. He couldn’t imagine what this looked like from the outside. 

Eleven. 

Twelve. 

Thirteen. 

He felt full. He couldn’t take much more. 

“Almost,” the lamia purred. Something squeezed through his sore, flexible vagina and up through his opened cervix. He waited another stretch to start, but it didn’t come. 

The lamia let go of his tongue and pulled himself out. It leaned back, and gestured for Papyrus to look between them. The ecto-body he had summoned was now filled with fourteen slightly oblong spheres. It took Papyrus a moment to recognize what they were. And once he did recognize them, he couldn’t believe it. The lamia only confirmed it when it put its hand on the distended stomach and said, “Them.”

Realization dawned on Papyrus. An ordinary monster might’ve felt sick. But he thrummed with excitement. He had meant it when he said he loved the lamia the moment he saw it. He put his hand on the lamia’s. “Them,” he said. “Oh my stars, them.” The lamia had chosen Papyrus to guard its most precious cargo – to guard its children. 

“You protect,” the lamia reiterated. 

Papyrus nodded, his sockets watering for no real reason he could find. “I will. I will protect them.” The lamia put a hand to Papyrus’s chest. 

“Mate protect mate. You protect both.” It gestured between them. Papyrus nodded, doing his best to understand. 

“I’m to protect both of us?” he asked. “Our souls?” The lamia nodded and clasped its hands together.

“Together Strong. Strong for them.” Papyrus smiled. He loved understanding. Their souls were together to keep his body strong for the children, so he could hold the children safely. 

The lamia curled around Papyrus, gliding them over to the corner of the shed, using its body to make a nest for him to lounge on. It curled so Papyrus could lean back on its chest. They both held his abdomen. He could feel the thrum of each and every egg – each little soul ready to see the world. “You protect them,” it said. “You protect both.” It thumped its chest. “Protect you.”

Papyrus smiled sleepily, unable to hold back his affection in his exhaustion. “Mate protect mate.”

The lamia smiled, something familiar and lovely sparking in its eyes as it kissed his temple. “Mate protect mate.”

Papyrus couldn’t hide his relief. Hours ago, he thought he’d never find a soulmate. Now he was one. His mate was unconventional, sure, but he had one. 

And he had to admit, he liked his soulmate quite a lot. 

And he knew he’d like their children whenever they came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my first time posting something lamia related? I've tried writing a longer version of this idea (skeleton Papyrus x lamia Rus), but it never really came to fruition. This is sort of the shorter, kinkier version of that story, I think. This went so well, I might try writing it again.


	9. Day 9: Pet Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Pet Play and Costumes  
Pairing: Kedgeup
> 
> Sans and Edge have a new strange way to cope with their daily stressors. If it works, don't judge it.

Sans was sitting on the couch, trying to nod off into sleep, when Edge came home. His expression was an all too familiar one; he simultaneously pouted and scowled, his cheekbones glowing lightly red from excessive emotion.

“Need to play?” Sans asked, already knowing the answer. Edge nodded. They traded places, Edge taking Sans’s seat on the couch as he went to the closet to get what they needed. 

He picked up the maroon collar, the ear headband, and the nearly bone tight onesie that was designed to look like a black dog, with a long furry tail and everything. Sans brought them out to Edge and placed them on the couch, turning until he heard his pet whine. 

Edge sat on his knees on the couch cushions, his gloved hands together. He was wearing the onesie and had the headband on. And in front of him was his collar, the one missing part of his uniform. Sans picked up the worn leather and thumbed it between his fingers before putting it around Edge’s neck and fastening it tight. 

He stroked Edge’s cheeks, petting him lightly before kissing his forehead. “Good boy. Such a good boy.” Edge whined again. Sans played with his fake ears before standing straight. “Now off the couch.”

Edge leapt off the cushions, remaining on his hands and knees as he watched Sans like he was the only thing in the world. “Come on, boy, let’s make dinner.” He pat his thigh and whistled through his teeth, commanding Edge to stay close to his side. He did as told, crawling close enough to his boyfriend that Sans could feel the fabric of the suit. 

In the kitchen, Sans decided to make something simple – spaghetti and meatballs. He put the premade meatballs in the oven and started boiling water. He stood in front of the stove. Edge stayed beside him with militaristic loyalty. To ease some of his tension, Sans reached one hand down to scritch his neck under his collar. It wasn’t bone on bone contact – the fur suit had a turtle neck, so he had to interact with the fur instead of Edge’s actual form. Nevertheless, Edge leant into the scritches, thumping his foot at the contact.

Sans had to admit: this was pretty fucking weird. When Mutt had first suggested they try pet play as a sort of coping mechanism, both Sans and Edge were staunchly against it. Sans couldn’t get behind the idea of treating his boyfriend like an animal and Edge said, word for word, “I WOULD NEVER BE CAUGHT DEAD WEARING A COLLAR.” They hadn’t acted on the suggestion until six months later when Edge became desperate. 

Despite being confident and having high self-esteem, Edge seemed to have the most difficulty acclimating to their new combined reality out of any of the skeletons. He was just too used to his other life. Most days, he came home heavily distraught. For a period of time there, he just went to his room to sulk. After that, they went through the cuddling phase: they’d sit on the couch, Edge’s head in Sans’s lap as he complained and cried and vented while his patient boyfriend caressed his head and offered minor comments of sympathy. This worked for a long time, but it was a band-aide fixe. Also, Edge didn’t like burdening Sans with his problems. This was when Mutt suggested they try pet play. 

In the six months between the suggestion and actually giving it a try, the biggest factor that inspired change was Sans. Every night that Edge came home crying chipped away at Sans’s soul. It became too painful to see him fall apart in his lap. So, he bought a pajama onesie with a hood that was made to make the wearer look like a dalmatian. 

Naturally, Edge refused. Sans promised it was soft and comfortable and, if Edge wanted, he could try the pet play thing, but if he didn’t want to then at least the onesie would be like a hug he could wear. 

Edge wore the onesie and didn’t want to take it off. Sans started petting him like he were a dog, giving him that cuddly, unconditional love. Liking what he was experiencing, Edge agreed to give pet play a real try. 

They scheduled a day in the coming month to give it an official test drive. 

It went well. Edge’s knees and palms hurt from crawling on the floor, but the benefits far outweighed the discomfort. He seemed relaxed and happy, and almost proud to follow Sans around the way he did. In more complicated words, he confessed that he enjoyed it. 

So, they went back to Mutt. He recommended places where they could get proper costumes and equipment, offered advice on how to get the most out of it, and proposed different things they could do to enhance the play experience. This time, instead of rolling their eyes, the two of them listened intensely, holding hands all the way through. 

Edge decided what kind of pet he wanted to be. They bought a suit that had pads to soften the impact on his bones. They got a custom-made head band with furry floppy ears that held his skull tight enough that it didn’t fall off easily. And, finally, swallowing his original words and protests, Edge picked out a collar. “I figure it could... it could signify when we start.” Sans nodded. thinking it was a wonderful idea. 

So, they started their new unconventional tradition. Roughly three times a week Edge dressed up as a dog and Sans became his master. He was loyal and protective, keeping close to his owner and constantly on guard. He always said that protecting Sans calmed him. 

Sans mostly liked the pet play because it allowed him to touch his boyfriend anytime he wanted, anywhere he wanted. Without the outfit, Edge was very picky about both of those things. As a pet, he was docile and submissive and frequently rolled on his back to let Sans rub his “belly”.   
Speaking of.

The pasta was in, there was a timer set and Sans had a few free minutes. He got on his knees and pet Edge. He stroked the back of his head, ran his hand down his back – Edge arching into the contact – and finally moved his hands to Edge’s front. With a happy yip and a thump, he rolled over onto his back on the kitchen floor. “Want tum tum rubs? You want tum tum rubs?” Edge twisted and turned. “Good boy. Good boy you get tum tum rubs cause you’re such a good boy.” 

Edge happily flipped back over onto all fours before crawling forward and licking the side of Sans’s face. He lapped enthusiastically, making multiple strokes quickly and thoroughly coating Sans’s cheek. He encroached on him and Sans fell back on the tiles, Edge crawling over him and incessantly licking his face. Sans snorted and laughed, trying to push him away playfully and failing at getting space to breathe. 

Finally, he put an end to it, “Down, boy. Down!” He said it with a smile and a laugh, so Edge crawled off with a smile, his tongue still lolling out. Sans wiped his face with his sleeve before giving Edge’s head had a little shake. “Who’s my good boy?”

“Yarp!”

“That’s right, you’re my good boy.” Edge gave him one more lick before allowing Sans to stand. He finished cooking their dinner, putting his portion on a plate and putting his boyfriend’s portion in a bowl. He brought both over to the table but put the bowl on the ground by his feet. Like a true animal, Edge dug into his meal face first, chewing the meatballs and eating hunks of spaghetti at a time. 

Had Sans ever dared eat like that, Edge would object. But, Sans was a grown monster. He needed to have manners. A dog on the other hand? They had nothing to really worry about. 

When they finished, Sans put both dishes in the sink to soak before offering Edge some water. He lapped it up with his tongue. Then Sans wiped his boyfriend’s face with a towel, taking off all the sauce so they could cuddle without making a mess. 

They went to the couch, Sans put on a movie, and he pat the cushion beside him. Edge hopped up and layed the top half of himself on Sans’s lap. 

They watched the movie, Edge taking the time to close his eyes and rest while Sans absent-mindedly played with his ears and fur, petting him throughout the film. 

When the movie finished, he had to wake Edge up to move to the bedroom. They had a dog bed in the corner, in case his boyfriend wanted to spend the night there. Or, if he preferred, they could stop playing and sleep in the bed together. Sans stood in front of him, waiting for a decision. “Go to your bed?” He asked. Edge watched him intensely, not making a nod one way or the other. Sans considered asking again, but then his boyfriend bit his shorts and yanked them toward him. 

He partially pantsed him but Sans quickly yanked the shorts back up. “Hey! That’s not like you.”

It was like him. This happened once a week. And Sans couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face when he realized what they were going to do tonight. Edge growled before arching his back and barking. He barked loudly, booming his voice and sounding entirely unhuman. Sans, per their script, got down on his knees. “Hey, boy, calm down. You still wanna play?” Edge panted happily. Sans would never get used to the heat in his cheeks. “Then let’s play a little longer.”

Edge’s eyelights turned predatory as he launched forward, putting his paws on Sans’s chest and pushing him down against the hard floor. He lapped and licked his face, nipping his vertebrae with his sharp teeth before using his nasal bridge to nudge Sans into a roll. He did as instructed, laying on his stomach, his breath speeding up. 

It was a strange fantasy. It was arguably weirder than the pet play. But Sans hadn’t realized he had this kink until Edge started dressing like a dog. He liked the idea of being wanted. Of something wanting him so badly that it went against all its instincts to take him. 

He didn’t want to get fucked by a dog. That’d be sick and wrong. 

But boy-fucking-howdy did he want Edge to fuck him like one. 

Edge licked and bit Sans’s neck as he humped him from behind. At first it was dry, just the front crotch of the fur suit grinding into Sans’s butt. It was enough to make both their ecto genitalia form. Front paws that had once been near his head went to their crotches. He knew Edge was pulling his cock from his suit. And then he felt his own pants go down. Edge backed up so he could eat Sans out. He nuzzled and licked, pressing his face against Sans’s summoned magic before licking so incessently against San’s clit that he couldn’t help but cover his mouth to stifle his moan. His thighs trembled and heated. 

He didn’t lick for long before crawling forward again and, in one aggressive, animalistic movement, hilted himself in Sans’s pussy. He moaned, clawing at the carpet as Edge’s forearms held his rib cage, giving him a good vantage to pound into his “owner”. He heard and felt Edge’s breath against his neck. He couldn’t stop his own tongue from lolling out in pleasure, accepting that Edge had no time to think of his comfort as he was just a desperate animal that needed to mate. 

The sounds in the room were loud and gross. The clacking of bones mixed with the squalching of ecto-genitalia was all either of them could hear. 

“Fuck,” Sans finally filled the air with something else. “Fuck, you’re such a good boy. Shit, hnngh~ Fuckin’ stars. So good. You’re so fucking good. Wh-Who’s my good boy you’re my fuckin’ best boy.” The encouragement made Edge speed up. His humping became frantic and rapid. He shifted his pelvis and started hitting Sans’s g-spot, making him see stars in his own bedroom. “God, fuck, I’m gonna-“ Edge hit him one last time, deep and hard. His pet came inside him, howling through his orgasm, the release of cum in his ecto-body making Sans follow suit. 

They froze in the bedroom, like a statue of complete bliss. 

And then they had to move. Edge pulled out of him, sitting back on his heels. He waited patiently for Sans to collect himself, moving to a sit on his shakey legs, his boyfriend’s cum dripping from his opening and getting on the carpet as he shifted. 

Edge’s face was red again, this time from heat and pleasure. He was still trying to catch his breath when Sans lent forward with shakey hands, removing the collar. He averted his eyes, holding the material in his hands as he heard Edge get changed. 

When two bare skeleton hands reached under Sans’s armpits, he knew it was safe to look. Edge held Sans in his arms, holding him against his chest as he kissed the top of his head. He put him on the bed, took the collar from his hands, and then undressed him. The ordinarily immaculate skeleton didn’t seem to care about the cum still oozing from Sans’s body as, once all of his clothes were off, he tucked him into bed. And then he crawled in with him, hugging him close under the sheets. 

“Thank you, petal,” Edge muttered, nuzzling Sans. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“Next time, can you just eat me out? Cause, like, your tongue when you’re being a pet is just fucking intoxicating-“

“We’ll see.”

“I mean it really just doesn’t stop. Maybe I should put peanut butter down there to-“

“Let’s go to sleep now.”

“If you have something to actually eat it might make it entertaining for longer cause woowee your tongue is like a fucking ma-“

Edge took the sides of Sans’s face in his hands before silencing him with a deep french kiss. It took the thoughts out of his mind for a moment, but then the kiss ended and he said, “Or we could just kiss some more. Really up to you.”

A long slender finger tilted his chin. Edge smiled – a worry free, satisfied expression. “Can we think about what comes next in the morning?”

Sans teasingly groaned. “Fiiiiiiiiiine.” They nestled into bed, holding each other and pressing into the pillows for a long moment of silence. 

That Sans felt the need to interrupt. “Just promise you’ll think about the peanut butter thing.”

“Go the fuck to sleep.” 

Sans chuckled. He wanted to keep the banter, but he was tired, and blissed out, and so incredibly happy to be where he was, and so ready for a relaxing day off when they woke up. 

Edge listened to what Sans told him to do all night. He could do him the honor of following one simple order. “Okay, I’m goin’. Promise. In just another minute I’ll be completely passed out. Sound asleep. Out like a fuckin – mmph!” Edge put a large hand over his teeth. 

“Shhhhhh.”

Sans pried the hand off. “You know, it’s really rude to interrupt someone when –“

“SANS I SWEAR TO GOD.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. He had reached Edge’s limit. And now that he had, he could go to sleep. He rested his head on Edge’s chest and let the thrum of the content, loving soul lull him to a fulfilling rest. 

That was why he liked it when Edge chose to share his bed.


	10. Day 10: Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Hate Fuck  
Pairing: Edgeberry
> 
> Blue is fed up and demands express. Edge doesn't like his tone. Anger ensues. This is not fluffy and happy, and it doesn't end well, so brace yourselves.

“STOP IT! I’M NOT A CHILD!”

Blue’s outburst, to Edge, came out of nowhere. He had noticed his boyfriend was a little agitated when he got home from work. It was out of the ordinary, but Edge wasn’t one to remark on someone else’s mood swings. 

Because Blue had seemed down, Edge thought he needed a hug. He grabbed his sides and lifted him a foot into the air before Blue lit up and anger, pushing Edge back so he was forced to drop him. 

Blue didn’t understand. It was a familiar and common position. Half the days, Blue was the one that initiated it, running from afar, yelling “CATCH ME!”, and leaping toward Edge. If he was prepared, he’d catch him and cradle him against his chest. If he wasn’t, Blue would latch onto him like a koala and ride around on his back as he made dinner. 

But suddenly, hugging him was apparently offensive.

Edge stood in shock, looking down at his angry ball of sunshine. The anger was foreign to his face. And, though Blue would hate to hear it, he looked like an angry child having a tantrum at a theme park. He crossed his arms because, like a child’s parent, he didn’t understand or appreciate the attitude. “OBVIOUSLY YOU’RE NOT A CHILD. I WOULDN’T BE CAUGHT DEAD DATING YOU IF YOU WERE.”

Blue shook his hands, his bright eye lights cinched in anger. “THEN WHY DO YOU TREAT ME LIKE ONE?!” He waved his arm to the door. “WHY DOES EVERYONE TREAT ME LIKE ONE?!” That was a bad time for a voice crack. Ordinarily, Edge would get on his knees to talk to Blue, but something told him that would only make the situation worse. 

“NOT EVERYONE TREATS YOU LIKE A CHILD,” Edge said. 

“TELL THAT TO CASHIER WHO OFFERED ME A LOLLIPOP! OR THE GIRLS THAT ASK ME IF I’M LOST! OR MY CO-WORKERS WHO FEEL THE NEED TO DOUBLE CHECK ALL MY WORK! OR MY OWN BROTHER!” There was a particularly strong wave of magic that racked through him. “I FUCKING RAISED HIM AND HE BUYS ME A SHE-RA ACTION FIGURE ‘AS A TREAT’!”

Edge thought better of pointing out the swear. “BUT YOU LOVE SHE-RA.”

“ONLY BECAUSE THE REBOOT HAS GOOD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!” He clawed his skull. “I’M NOT A CHILD.” His temper seemed to cool as he finished his rant. Edge felt sympathetic. Red frequently still treated him like a little kid. Once a little brother, always a little brother. It wasn’t the same as Blue’s struggles, but he understood. 

Now Edge got on his knees, reaching a gentle hand out to cup Blue’s cheek. “I KNOW YOU’RE NOT A KID. I THINK PEOPLE STRUGGLE –“

Blue slapped his hand away. “AND I COME HOME TO YOU! THE CONDESCENDING HAS-ALL-THE-ANSWERS HERO WHO LECTURES ME LIKE A MOTHER.” Edge flared with anger, his words, as they did in his mood swings, went beyond his intention.

“I MUST BE A MOTHER WHEN YOU ACT SO IMMATURE!” He stood. “MAYBE PEOPLE WOULDN’T TREAT YOU LIKE A CHILD IF YOU STOPPED ACTING LIKE ONE!”

“YOU THINK I ACT LIKE A CHILD?” He growled through clench teeth. 

“WHEN YOU HAVE SUCH A TANTRUM, YES! YES THIS WHOLE...” He waved his hand, gesturing to all of Blue’s body and attitude. “... EPISODE IS VERY UNBECOMING OF SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO BE TREATED LIKE AN ADULT.”

“I DESERVE TO BE TREATED AS AN ADULT!”

“THEN ACT LIKE ONE!”

“FINE!!” Two hands reached up, grabbed the front of Edge’s shirt in fistfulls, and yanked him down. Edge was pulled to his knees, his patella’s crunching against the hard floor under the thin carpet, and teeth slammed into his. Blue had started with his mouth open, shoving a summoned tongue down Edge’s throat. His own tongue formed almost without permission, soley from the rush and force of the kiss, and he met his angry partner, sucking on his magic. 

Blue wanted to be treated like an adult? Fine. It would be Edge’s god damn pleasure. 

He clawed Blue’s pelvis through his pants, making sure he could feel the pressure of each of his finger tips before hiking him up, holding him in their once familiar hug position. Blue growled – such an unfamiliar sound – and bit Edge’s tongue. He cursed before standing up and slamming Blue against the wall, trapping him in midair between his house and his chest. Blue kicked and flailed, pushing and punching with his hands, demanding to be put down. 

Edge broke the kiss and bit Blue’s neck. He yelled out a curse, wrapping his hands around Edge’s head and clawing his fingers down the back of his skull. It hurt a surprising amount. 

This wasn’t their usual rough housing – their light nibbles and pinches. Blue was trying to hurt Edge. And, as much as Edge didn’t want to admit it, he wanted to hurt him back. 

And a bed was too comfortable for what he wanted to do. 

Carrying Blue like the baby he wasn’t (despite his kicking and biting and clawing), he dropped him onto the uncarpeted wood floor of their living room, making quick work of Blue’s belt and buckle. The violence had either caused – or been mistaken for – arousal, and he had a cock and anus formed. 

So that’s how it was gonna go. 

Edge turned Blue over, manually raised his hips, and shoved his finger up Blue’s ass. “HNNGH, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Sans cursed. Edge didn’t know where this swearing came from, but he despised it. As punishment, he squeezed one more finger into him. Blue punched the ground, his cheeks turning blue. They were violent and angry, but that was the face of Blue in pleasure. 

“YOU CERTAINLY DON’T TALK LIKE A CHILD,” Edge said, stretching and spinning his fingers. 

“STOP PATRONIZING, AND START FUCKING ME!” Blue demanded. How could he argue with that?

He undid his own belt and fly. His cock was hard and ready. He spat in his hand, refusing to give Blue’s dick any attention, and jacked himself, lubing him up before slamming straight into Blue. He yelled, arching his head up, his mouth open and tears in his eyes. Edge put his hand on the back of Blue’s skull and pressed him into the floor. Every thrust pushed him harder and harder against the wood floor. 

His ass was tight, squeezing and heating around Edge, quickly drawing an orgasm out of him. He didn’t milk it though. Instead, he flipped Blue over so he was on his back, keeping himself inside as he did so. 

Blue glared up at him with ire and pleasure. His cock was stiff, precum leaking from the head, begging for stimulus. He tried to grab for it, but Edge caught his wrists and held them beside his head. Their faces were inches apart. 

“T-Touch me,” Blue gasped and begged. Edge shook his head. 

“ADULTS DON’T NEED TO BE TAKEN CARE OF, RIGHT?” The anger flared again and Blue opened his mouth to speak. No sound came out as Edge started pounding in and out of him again, their bones clacking together and Blue mewling shamefully. He mumbled something. “SORRY, YOU HAVE TO SPEAK UP.” He made unflinching direct eye contact, holding it and speaking, neither of which wavered despite the way he should from Edge’s thrusts. 

“I said, I hate you. I. HATE. YOU!”

Edge stilled himself in blue, letting the words hang in the air. 

This... This had been consensual. It was angry and forceful but... But Blue had wanted this... right?

“DO YOU WANT ME TO STOP?” The fear in his voice was audible. 

Blue growled, lifting his head off the ground. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.” He captured his mouth again, fierce and biting, hurting and cutting Edge’s tongue, causing damage that was equal to what he was doing to his asshole. 

He pounded and moved and Blue fought against his hold. Edge came again in him, the release weakening his hold for a moment, allowing the smaller skeleton to free his hands and push Edge off and out of him. He grabbed Edge’s head and forced it down to his dick. Edge tried to avoid it, but Blue yanked him down, his cock going deep down his throat. Edge pounded the floor and clawed Blue’s bones, trying to escape as Blue fucked his skull, thrusting into him and making him gag and cry. 

It wasn’t long before he came, his load slipping down Edge’s throat. He swallowed and gagged and once the hands let go of his skull, he launched off, pounding his sternum and coughing. When he got a grip, he fell to the ground, laying beside blue. They were both out of breath, both covered in scars, and both disgusted with themselves. 

They lay on the floor even when they collected themselves. Edge was afraid of what would happen when they moved. It would likely be better than what they just did, but it would be worse than this moment of afterglow. 

“That was bad,” Blue said. He spoke quietly, as if, just maybe, Edge wouldn’t hear him. 

“It was.” It had felt amazing. His body was still shaking from the orgasms. But, besides the physical pleasure, his conscience was dirtied and ashamed. And they both felt that way. Edge wanted to look at his partner, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “Did you mean what you said? That you hate me?” There was a long, sickening pause. He couldn’t tell if Blue was thinking or if he was just scared to answer truthfully.

“I think so.”

The words hurt Edge. They hurt him more than any of the bites or claws. And they made him feel more vulnerable than any cock down his throat. 

“I think we need to break up,” Blue added. His voice was reaching, probing nervously. There wasn’t a question in it, but he seemed to be worried about Edge’s feelings. He was grateful for the consideration, but it still hurt. And it hurt even more because,

“I think so, too.”


	11. Day 11: Fancy Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Formal Wear  
Pairing: Spicyhoney
> 
> Edge and Stretch get dressed up and think they look sexy as all hell. Too bad neither of them bother to tell the other.

Edge held himself to incredibly high standards. To say he was disappointed that his boyfriend, Stretch, didn’t share his sense of style or class, was the understatement of the century. All Edge wanted was for Stretch to value himself. Was it so hard to wear something nice for once?

And that’s why he was so excited for Papyrus and Rus’s wedding. They had a flare for the dramatic, so they demanded everyone dress like debutants in tuxes and ball gowns. Edge spent weeks buying his dress. It was a deep, scarlet red, It had a high neck and long sleeves that flared slightly at the wrists and a big billowing skirt that came out in poofy pleats. His favorite part was the gold, almost gilded look, of the designs that covered the collar, shoulders, bodice, sleeve cuffs, and the ends of the dress. They climbed up like an intricately carved fireplace. He felt like an empress and he knew people would be looking at him. 

He waited patiently in the living room for Stretch to be ready. He came out of the bathroom wearing a tux. The pants were black and so were the lapels. The body and sleeves of the jacket were a similar, although more subdued, color to Edge’s accents. His bow tie was the only improper part of the outfit as he let the red cloth hang untied around his neck. Regardless, he was stunning and handsome and Edge would be proud to walk with him on his arm. 

He put his finger in the collar, stretching the fabric as he grabbed the door knob. 

“Let’s get a move on.”

Edge couldn’t help but show his disappointment. No comment? No snarky “ta-da”? His distaste for the exchange showed on his face and he angrily stomped out of their apartment. It was a tense ride down in the elevator to the parking garage. They got into his car, Stretch taking the driver’s seat because Edge couldn’t drive in his large skirt and made their way to the venue. 

To match their outfits, the wedding was taking place in an historic pub that had three floors dedicated to dinner and dancing with antique cherubs carved into the walls along with chandeliers on every ceiling. 

Everyone in the room was dressed to the tens. The reception and the wedding took place in the same room so the ceremony could immediately devolve into dancing and reverie. Papyrus was dressed in a tux with tails, looking as spiffy as ever, and Rus wore a wedding dress that, Edge had to admit, was bigger and more beautiful and glorious than his own. He figured that was the way it was supposed to be. No one was supposed to look at the guests – they were supposed to look at the happy couple. 

But Edge had hoped Stretch would be an exception. 

His own boyfriend had to have his sockets on him, right? He would hear the words of the ceremony and apply them romantically to their own relationship. He should think Rus looks nice, but that Edge looks ravishing. He could at least take Edge’s hand during the vows. 

But he didn’t. He kept his head faced forward, almost like someone held him at gun point. 

When the grooms kissed and the party started, Edge waited for Stretch to ask him to dance. He never did though. He leapt from his chair and spent the majority of the night talking with his brother. Edge stood on the opposite side of the room. Every time he tried to come closer, Stretch would obviously increase the distance between them. So, Edge decided to give up. He sat at his table and watched his boyfriend shmooze with his brother. Blue seemed to want to be left alone, being that he was there with his own boyfriend and he wanted to spend time with him. But Stretch didn’t leave him. 

Edge growled, sipping his third glass of wine. He was a heavy weight, but he knew he was drinking more than he usually would. He was frustrated and angry and just wanted his boyfriend to look at him. He knew he wasn’t asking for too much. And yet Stretch didn’t give it. 

They spent the entire wedding apart until it was time to leave. That was actually the one time Stretch approached his boyfriend. Edge had perked up, expecting him to ask for a dance to one of the last played and slowest songs. Instead, he asked, “Ready to go, darlin’?”

Edge didn’t care if he looked angry. He didn’t care if his attitude showed or if his walk was too pointed. Let Stretch know he was cross. Maybe he’d learn how to behave in the future. 

They got to their car. Stretch started driving. Edge glared daggers out the window. 

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Stretch said. 

“It was,” Edge admitted. “How’s your brother?”

“He’s good. He and Razz are gettin’ along well.”

“Good.”

A heavy silence sat between them. 

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re mad?” he asked. The question stoked the flames of Edge’s frustration. 

“I’m not mad.”

Stretch smiled. “Bull shit.”

“Language.”

“Sor-ry.”

“Attitude,” he muttered. He knew Stretch was smiling. It was so shit-eating that he could feel the way it affected the air. “You said nothing about my dress.”

“What?”

“My dress.” He looked away from the window. “You didn’t say anything about it. You didn’t even look at me. You spent all night with your brother, and we didn’t even dance.” Once he said it, the anger melted, showing off his genuine disappointment. He had been looking forward to having a nice night out, and it felt like Stretch had ruined it. 

“”M sorry,” Stretch said. It sounded mostly genuine. “You didn’t do much better though.”

“Excuse me?”

Stretch gestured to his suit. “I dressed up for the first time... I think, ever. And you didn’t say a word about it.”

“Of course, I said something!”

They pulled into their parking garage. “Ya really didn’t, darlin’.” He climbed out of the car and Edge struggled to follow. He was walking ahead of him to the elevator and Edge was struggling to keep up in his heels. Stretch called the elevator and only then did he catch up.

“Okay, fair. But why were you avoiding me all night?”

Stretch scratched the back of his neck. “Figure ya didn’t like my look... Ya pretty high class. Knew ya didn’t want to be seen with someone dressed ‘below standard’.” Stretch lowered his head and lumbered into the elevator as it opened. Edge scurried after him, the doors closing them in. 

“Petal, you did not look below standard,” he assured. Stretch shrugged. “Do you doubt me?”

“I mean... no. I just, I still look like shit in comparison to...” He gestured to Edge in his dress. “This.” He made a fair point. Edge did look fantastic. But that didn’t lessen Stretch’s stunningness. His suit was classy and slightly flashy and made Stretch look like royalty. 

Edge should have said something sooner. 

“Stretch, my love,” he took his boyfriend’s shoulders in his hands, making them face each other, “you looked like a prince tonight.”

Stretch perked up slightly. “Really?”

“Oh yes.” Edge smiled, loving the feel of truth in his mouth. “As soon as you came out of the bathroom, I was completely blown away with how good you looked. You rarely wear suits and now I know why.” He let his words hang in the air for a moment. “Because murder is illegal and you were killing it.”

Stretch laughed. It bubbled out of him and was clearly a release of stress. “You mean it?”

“Of course. My only regret is not telling you earlier. I’m sorry for that.” Stretch looked Edge up and down, the endearment in his sockets transforming into something more severe. 

“I should have told you how nice you looked.” He took a step toward Edge. “You’re practically a seductress.”

“I was going for empress,” Edge said, taking a step back so that his boyfriend didn’t step on his skirt. 

“You nailed it. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Stretch had effectively pushed Edge against the elevator wall. He had one hand on Edge’s hip and the other hovered near the elevator buttons. “I don’t think an empress should look this sexy.” Edge’s blush erupted in time with Stretch, pushing the stop button on the elevator. The box shook to a stop. 

“What are you – hmph! Hmmm.” The kiss came as a surprise at first, but Edge couldn’t help but melt into it. It was the first real contact the two shared since getting dressed. Stretch’s hands pawed at Edge’s bones through his bodice. He wrapped his arms around his neck, holding his skull with his hands, controlling the kiss while Stretch felt every indent and protrusion through the fabric and embroidery. “Mercy, I wanted to do this since I saw you.” It was true. He had wanted attention, a compliment, but, mostly, a kiss of pure admiration. 

“Right back at ya, darlin’,” he spoke into Edge. “Gotta say, there is one thing I hate about this dress.”

Edge pulled away in surprise. He showed Stretch the dress a picture when he bought it. He hadn’t said anything negative then. “What one thing?”

“It’s not easy access. Gotta make do otherwise.” Stretch offered a mischievous smile before getting on the ground. 

“Oh, don’t kneel! The floor is so dirty.”

“Not dirty enough, if ya ask me.”

“Ew.” It was a teasing laugh. And it just spurred Stretch on. He crawled under Edge’s skirt, hiding entirely under the billowing fabric. The tent of the dress heated up as Stretch breathed under it, his cold fingers touching Edge’s thighs through his hoes before something tore. And then he felt his underwear get moved to the side. “Oh, petal, not h-“ The words transformed into a moan. He felt the familiar touch of a tongue against his pubis, licking and then suckling the bone until his magic coagulated in his pelvic cradle. 

Edge took support from the wall, clenching the safety hand rail that was attached to the interior of the elevator. His legs trembled and he needed to hold himself up as Stretch relentlessly kissed him. 

His magic easily formed into lips against Stretch’s experienced mouth. Shortly after, two cold fingers traced the rim of his opening. His bodice constricted his breath, making him gasp raspily for air. The fingers entered him, curling against his walls and stretching slightly as Stretch kissed his clit. 

He knew all the buttons to push. He was familiar with Edge’s body and knew exactly where to press his fingers, how to kiss and suck, the exact spot on his thigh that made him tremble and shake. 

Edge looked down instinctually, wanting to see his boyfriend but only finding the beautiful sloping fabric of his dress. The skirt kept his pleasure a secret. It was as if he was just flushed and leaning in the elevator. If anyone came in, they would have no idea that someone was feasting on his magic. Regardless, he was grateful Stretch had pressed the stop button. 

The pleasure was too visible. And audible. Ever nip and shift, stroke and kiss, Edge whined and moaned. He tried to cover his mouth but found his hand resting on his cheek before trailing down his neck to his ribs. He let it slip under his neckline, stroking his ribs, ripening his magic throughout his body, heightening his pleasure and making the wave in him roll up his spine. 

The fingers spun and twirled. They stroked his g-spot, every touch bringing a blinding wave over his sockets, making his nonexistant stomach twist in anticipation for the next touch. A hum from his partner made him moan out his name. His toes curled in his heels. His clit was sore from so much attention and yet Stretch kept going until the pleasure crashed through him. 

He saw stars. He let out a silent scream. His legs went limp and Stretch was all that kept him standing. He brought his hand out of his dress to hold his forehead. He was so hot and the dress felt more like a trap then a joy. 

Stretch stayed under him for a moment longer, licking him and cleaning up the mess he made before popping out from under the skirt with a smile. “Oh no,” Edge gasped. 

“What?”

“Your face is red.” Stretch touched his teeth and pulled the scarlet liquid off. The juice from his genitalia had tinted his whole skull. He motioned to wipe it off with his sleeve – but hesitated. Edge squatted on his weak legs. His dress was important to him, but the juice would stain Stretch’s golden jacket, so he personally wiped his lovers face with his red sleeve, the juice blending in and looking more like spilled water than a stain. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect suit.”

Stretch’s flattered smile stretched wide. He took Edge’s face in his hands and kissed him, deeply and truly. He could still taste himself on his boyfriend’s tongue. 

Then the elevator jilted back to life. They stood up and made themselves look as presentable as possible as the elevator took them to their floor. When it slid open, someone was standing in the hallway to meet them. They were clearly a handyman. 

“Why’d you stop the elevator?” They asked. 

“Forgive us,” Edge said. “It was simply an accident. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble to get it running again.” The handyman blushed, rubbing the back of their neck, clearly flustered by how handsome the two skeletons looked. 

“Oh, no trouble at all. Just, uh, wanted to make sure ya’ll were all right.”

“We’re great, thanks for getting us out of there,” Stretch said, easily lying through his teeth. 

“My pleasure.”

Stretch offered his elbow out and Edge gladly took it. They walked down the hall like they were arriving at a ball. The manners were late, but he was just glad to be on Stretch’s arm at all. He couldn’t help but lean his head against his boyfriend. They went to their apartment door and Stretch let Edge in first. “Now, my I help you get that off?”

“Only if I can return the favor,” Edge teased, sauntering to the bedroom. Stretch excitedly followed, closing the apartment door, and then the bedroom door behind him. Stretch grabbed for Edge’s dress, ready to take it off, but his boyfriend beat him to it. Edge’s hands immediately undid his jacket button before splaying his hands wide on Stretch’s chest. “The fabric is exquisite.”

“Thanks. It’s a rental.” Stretch snorted at his own joke and Edge rolled his eyes. 

“Shame. I think you’d find me far more docile if you dressed like this on a daily basis.” He started undoing the buttons of the shirt. 

“Maybe I’ll just buy it then,” Stretch said. Soon enough, the shirt was open, showing off his ribs. Edge hugged him under his open shirt, kissing his collar bones and sternum. Stretch wrapped his arms around him, his fingers finding the hook at the middle of the back of his collar. He unhooked the back before taking the hidden zipper and dragging it down, curving down the arch of Edge’s spine until it met it’s end at the small of his back. 

He stood straight, the top of the dress hanging loose on his chest, the sleeves keeping it up and still hugging him tight. With his now opened back dress, he started undoing Stretch’s pants. His boyfriend shucked off the jack and shirt before stepping out of his slacks. 

Edge wanted to be surprised that his boyfriend went commando, but he had practically predicted it. He had also predicted the magic that had formed there, making a thick long cock that was ready for action. 

Stretch carefully held his sleeves, helping Edge get the top of so he could push the dress down to the floor, stepping out of the fabric pool. Intending to step toward his boyfriend, he nearly fell back when Stretch stepped forward. He gracefully caught him with a hand on the small of his back. 

Edge raised a brow, impressed with the smoothness of the unintentional dip. 

“Sorry I didn’t ask you to dance,” he said. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to move in that dress anyway,” Edge said. “I find my present apparel much more freeing. So, if you would still like to...”

“Wanna do the horizontal tango?”

“Gladly.” He let Stretch maneuver them through the piles of nice clothes to the bed, putting Edge on his back. He was still wearing his hoes and his underwear, and his magic was still summoned. Stretch easily slipped into him, both their genitals slick with anticipation. 

His thrusts were slow, almost meditative as they pushed as deep as they could go before sliding out a smidge and then sliding back in. Edge put his arms around Stretch’s shoulders, holding on as they made sweet, slow, gorgeous love. He clenched and warmed around Stretch, milking moans and hums from him. He kept his pace through his rising pleasure. He kept them through the kisses and the pinches and the stroking of bones. It was steady and comfortable and still managed to send shivers down both of their spines. 

Edge was getting close to his second orgasm when he finally spoke. “You know,” he moaned, “I didn’t wear any jewelry tonight.”

“What a wasted opportunity.” Stretch kissed his cheek. 

“I was thinking you could get me a pearl necklace.”

He could feel Stretch’s excitement inside him and could see it outwardly on his face. He pulled all the way out of Edge. He straddled his hips and took his cock into his hand. In three firm strokes, he came. He came right on Edge’s collar bone, spurting the stringy fluid so it draped like cobwebs on his bones. 

Edge sat up, looking down at the cum on his ribcage. He looked this way and that before leaning forward and looking up at Stretch. “So? How does it look?” He recognized the signature shift in his eye lights, the pinpricks turning into slightly larger circles with the tiniest point and indent in them. The little hearts lasted only a moment before Stretch’s smug smile came back. 

“Any chance you’ll let me do that when you’re wearing the dress?”

Edge leaned up. He brought a hand up and placed it on his chest. “No way in hell.” He took Stretch’s collar bone in his hand before yanking him down to lay with him on the bed. 

They spent the night curling and hugging, entwining together in an embrace that neither wanted to end. 

Edge couldn’t wait until another wedding or, hell, any formal event. They knew how to do it right the next time.


	12. Day 12: Biting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Biting  
Pairing: DT!Sans/FS!Papyrus, what's the ship name for this? MapleHop? DTSyrup? I honestly have no idea. 
> 
> Mutt is enchanted by a mysterious dancer at his local dive. And the dancer appreciates the extra attention.

Mutt had never felt a stronger urge to mark someone than when he saw the unfamiliar skeleton move on the dance floor. He was small, maybe a little shorter than his own brother, and covered himself with big sneakers, sweatpants, a sweatshirt with the hood up, and fingerless gloves. But it wasn’t what he was wearing that got Mutt’s attention from the bar. 

Oh no, it was how he moved. 

The mob of dancers had parted to make room for him. He hopped and slipped and pulsed his bones in ways Mutt had never thought possible. He spun on his back like a top, was pulled by his sternum around the room, raised his shoulders and bent his knees. His hood flipped off his skull for a brief moment when he was upside down, showing off the pristine condition of his bones. But as soon as it appeared, it was hidden again as he spun with his ankles crossed and arms raised high. 

The band had been playing a cover of some song, but as the skeleton moved, the saxophonist came to the front of the stage and specifically started playing for him, like he was conducting the movements. Or maybe the skeleton’s movements were conducting the musician. 

His moves were positively hypnotizing, and Mutt couldn’t look away. The bartender asked if he wanted another drink, but he just waved his hand dismissively, not wanting anything to break his focus on the dancing skeleton. 

The drummer played to signify the beginning of the end, and the musician and dancer rose to a climactic end. With a clash of a symbol and a lick of the saxophone, the skeleton fell into a split. He grabbed his collar and pulled himself up to a stand, as if he was a marionette being pulled up by his string. He walked over to the saxophonist and shook his hand.

As if he had to hide them, he put his hands in his hoodie pocket and walked over to the bar. 

Mutt tried not to panic as he came right next to him. His face was still mostly obscured by the hood as he asked the bartender for a drink. His voice was deep, not matching his height. The server gave him a shot of something and he chucked it back before turning, resting his elbows on the bar, and looking out at the floor. The other dancers started to fill his space, but there was still room left for him if he wanted to return. The band went back to covering a pop song. 

Mutt was inches away from the dancer and he couldn’t help but stare. When he wasn’t moving, he was still as a statue. He nearly jumped when the sculpture turned his head to look at him. He winked. “Could feel your eyes on me from across the room.” Mutt blushed from the call out. He knew he had been enchanted, but he didn’t think he’d been obvious. “Like what ya see, stud?” 

“You’re a very good dancer,” Mutt said. “That’s all.” 

“Is it?” He asked, his brow raising. Mutt nodded, not trusting his words to say what he meant for them to. “Can I buy you a drink?” His brain was moving as fast as molasses. He was looking at him with such a carefree smile. He had no idea what was boiling inside Mutt. Or did he know? And that’s why he was tempting fate?

“No.” The skeleton frowned, looking a little disappointed. “Lemme buy you one.” The smile came back like it was spring locked. 

“Well, all right,” he said, turning to face the bar and pulling up a stool. He offered his hand. “I’ll show you mine, you show me yours?” Mutt almost choked on his own saliva. The skeleton snorted, retracting his hand back to his pocket. “Your face. Dude, I’m just asking for your name.” Mutt shook his head, unable to hide his amusement. 

“Weirdest way to ask it,” he said, calling the bartender over. “Rum and coke and whatever he’s having.”

“Tequila coke,” he ordered. The bartender started working. 

“Mutt.”

“Hm?”

“Call me Mutt.”

The skeleton smiled, offering his hand out again. “Sansy.”

They shook hands. His fingertips were warm and Mutt hoped it was a good first impression. They clinked their glasses before drinking. When they finished, they had another round. 

Conversation flowed naturally. They drank into the night. They both got sloppy and laughed too much at each other’s jokes. Sansy was so charming. He had a good laugh, his wit was razor sharp, and he kept casually putting a hand on Mutt’s arm. 

Mutt knew he was laughing too much and touching Sansy too much on the back. But he never objected. In fact, by the way he blushed and flirted, Mutt dared to say he was encouraging it. After one particular quip, Sansy leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Mutt’s shoulder. 

“I oughta thank you,” he said, looking up at Mutt in a positively adorable way. “I really needed a night like tonight, so thanks for the company.”

Mutt raised a brow, panic rising in his drunken mind. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to say goodbye.”

Sansy beamed. “Why? Would ya missssss me?” It was teasing, light, like everything else that had gone on tonight.

“What if I would?” He asked. “Miss you, that is.” He could feel his face was flushed. He was the opposite of forward, and this was the best he could do. He was a much better physical communicator than verbal. But he wasn’t in the position to express himself in his preferred way. 

The only solace was that Sansy flushed just as much. But he was good at talking. Mutt could tell. He smiled, leaning up. His face was warm near Mutt’s. “Then you can come with me, if ya want.”

Oh, did Mutt want. He fumbled with his pants and his wallet, pulling out his card to pay the bartender. It was an awkward few moments of them waiting. And it was made more awkward as Sansy kept playing with him. He let his fingers walk up and down his zipper. He tugged on his sleeve and played with the fur of his coat. When he finally signed the receipt, Sansy gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I wish I wish with all my soul, to take this stud home and continue to cajole.”

“What’s that su-“

He recognized the feeling of a jump cut. Sansy yanked them through time and space until they landed on a bed. Mutt was disoriented and didn’t have the wits about him to react to Sansy straddling him, pushing him onto the bed, and kissing him fiercely. Not that he objected. No, quite the opposite. 

They were done with talk. They were in his territory now. 

Mutt held Sansy close, one hand firmly on his pelvis and the other holding his back, forcing their ribs to rub together as Sansy thrusted. He held his cheekbones and kissed him deeply, rubbing up and down against Mutt’s body. He thrusted and humped against him, meeting every arch and pull. Mutt’s magic formed easily, but he didn’t want to do anything with it. He had other things in mind. 

He flipped them, pressing Sansy onto his back. His cheeks were still blue from the alcohol, but now he had the flush of arousal. He tried to kiss Mutt, but he kept him pinned. 

“Nah, I wanna hear you.” He boldly put his hand under Sansy’s waist band. He shuddered, a smile spreading across his face. 

“I’m more of a mover than a singer.”

“Don’t worry. Imma make you sing.” He pressed his thumb against his clitoris, moving the hood over the bud. Sansy gasped for breath, a whine escaping him as his back arched against the bed. His senses were dulled from his drunkenness, but he could still appreciate the different textures. His lips were smooth, the space under his clit was wrinkled and folded, and the space below that was bubbled and textured, rough against his thumb. He used that to guide his finger down into the opening, feeling the magic warm around his bones. Sansy breathed shallowly, keeping an arm over his forehead and putting a hand under his shirt so he could feel his own bones. He rolled onto Mutt’s fingers, his walls clenching and pulling, asking for him to go deeper. 

He slowly pressed in a second finger, feeling the walls and looking for the right spot. If he really wanted to hear Sansy sing, he needed to find the play button. 

“Hh-haaaa!” There it was. Sansy gasped for air, his sockets clenched as Mutt massaged the spot in time with his clit. He mewled and arched and tried to cry out, biting his knuckles and still making big deep moans that shook Mutt to his core. Giving pleasure heightened all of his senses, sobering him up quickly, allowing him to gracefully focus on the body before him and the pleasure he needed to deliver. 

The skeleton below him wriggled, his shoes rubbing together until he kicked them off. He could see the toes curl through the socks. He peered up at Mutt through his pleasure. “You just gonna jill me off until I cum? Don’t you have something else you could be doing?”

Yes. Yes, he did. He’d just been appreciating the view. He moved like a dancer even now. Sansy looked excited at Mutt’s grin. He hunched over Sansy, nuzzling in his neck, a space between the bones and the hood that smelled like dirty laundry, sweat, and sugar. He nuzzled the bones before licking the space between his vertebrae. He scraped a bone against his g-spot. Sansy moaned loudly, putting a hand on the back of Mutt’s head to keep him close. 

Mutt scraped his teeth against the bones, making Sansy gasp. He licked and suckled and nibbled, trying not to just bite too strongly to start. He could be patient. Take his time. His partner nuzzled the side of his face, turning into him and reciprocating. His tongue was surprisingly cool. It sent shivers down Mutt’s spine, giving him a surprising wave of pleasure. 

Mutt added a third finger as he inhaled his partners neck, taking a big bite of his bones. His teeth scraped against the surface and Sansy’s whole body arched. Mutt pulled away so he could look down at the pleasure he was spurring. 

His moves on the dance-floor had been perfectly timed. Rhythmic and graceful, moving to a beat everyone could hear in hypnotic harmony. Here, there was no sound. He was rhythmic. He maintained his dancer’s manners. His shudders and pleasures extending from his core through his arms and out his fingers, full lines of motion beginning and ending in long lyrics. And Mutt was causing it all. He was the saxophonist now. He was the conductor, controlling every movement and moan that crawled its way through Sansy’s body. He was responsible for it. 

He felt powerful. He was controlling this beautiful body. This dancer that was so precise and controlled was under his sole influence. 

He wanted Sansy to remember him. He bent over him again, putting his face on the other side of his neck to attack. He lathered the area, making it most and warm, over sensitized to the point that it may not notice any excessive trauma. He just needed to get his partner’s mind to the same place. 

He put in a third finger, stretching the walls and making Sansy worm and wriggle. He clawed the back of Mutt’s skull. He could feel the marks that would be left behind, and he couldn’t wait to see them in the mirror. 

He twisted his fingers, pushing against the erect internal tissues, giving equal attention to his clit. He moved around it, teasing the circumference of the flesh before pushing down on it gently. “Nnn-haaa! Ah! Ah!” The dancer’s body stiffened under him, freezing in an arch and trembling there, his bones rattling from the tension. His walls clamped and spasmed around Mutt’s fingers as he felt a flush of liquid. 

Perfect timing. 

First, he used his free hand to pull the fabric of his hoodie away, making room for him. He opened his mouth wide, trying to touch as many of his bones as possible. His upper teeth touched his shoulder blade, his lower the collar bone, and the teeth on the left side of his mouth captured the neck vertebrae. It was a perfect position and he clamped down, pressing hard. Their bones were magical, like stiff sponges. He bit into his bones. They gave slightly before he broke through a first layer. “Ah-hah!” He clamped down a little harder before releasing his bit and licking the indents, soothing them. He pulled back to look at his work. 

Sansy’s sockets were lidded, his mouth slightly agape with his shallow breathing. The marks he left were a deep, almost black and blue, one for each of his teeth, creating a big ring that existed entirely under his jaw line. He delicately put the sweatshirt back in place, successfully hiding all the marks. But he still knew they were there. His little secret brand. 

He thrusted his fingers twice in Sansy, slowly massaging him back to this reality before pulling them out. 

Sans’s sockets fluttered open and he smiled. He was wily, excited, and satisfied as he sat up. Mutt sat straight, giving him room. His eye lights were blown and Mutt got to watch them cinch into their proper size. “Ten out of ten, good form,” he practically gasped. He rubbed his forehead before getting on his knees. He put his hands-on Mutt’s shoulders. “But, you know, it takes two to tango.”

“Does it now?” Mutt leant back, giving his partner space to take over. He tried to put slide off Mutt’s coat. He took Sansy’s wrists in his and put his hands down on the bed. “You’re clearly a solo act.” His face dropped in disappointment. Mutt kissed him one more time, a quick, chaste thing. “But, if I see ya at the bar again, maybe we can tango together.”

Sansy sat back on his heels, a tentative smile growing. “I look forward to it.”

Mutt didn’t know if he meant what he said next. He got what he wanted from the interaction. A second meeting would be an encore appearance. But he said it regardless, “Me, too. Call me a car?”

Sansy did. He walked Mutt down to the sidewalk, received a final kiss to the forehead, and Mutt climbed in the car. He was taken home, payed a tip, and went into his bedroom. The sight of the bitemark was clear in his head. He could see it when he closed his eyes. He reveled in the vision all week. 

And then he went back to the bar. 

And the dancer was again in the middle of his circle. And as soon as he saw him, he beckoned him to come over. 

And Mutt, though he didn’t like to dance, joined him on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The relationship of these two continues in Chapter 17.


	13. Day 13: Nipple Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Nipple Play  
Pairing: UT Fontcest
> 
> Papyrus wants to try something new and refuses to accept any help from his brother. But Sans can't wait any longer.

“I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

“You’re doin’ fine bro.”

“I don’t think so. They’re not supposed to be that... pointy, are they?”

“I mean... not usually? But it’s fine. Whatever feels right for you.”

“I don’t know what feels right, but this definitely feels wrong.”

“I mean... I could give you a hand if you want.”

“No!! I can do it on my own.”

“Suit yourself.” Sans leant back on the headboard, putting his hands behind his head. Patience was his virtue, but watching Papyrus try and summon a chest had already taken an hour. Sans could help to speed it up, using his hands to help sculpt his breasts, but Papyrus had turned down every offer. 

At first Sans had asked to help because he wanted to fondle Papyrus’s chest – regardless of how it was summoned. Now he just wanted to help to speed up the process so they could start. But it was clearly a point of pride for his brother, and he refused to being anything without having his chest fully formed. His pride was going to kill Sans with boredom. 

The form he had now wasn’t awful. The orange magic had encapsulated his ribcage like a sock. It bulged in two very shallow mounds on his chest. Papyrus kept trying to adjust their size, so they floated in this vague state of amalgam. He was really struggling with the nipples really. And in trying to form them, he was messing up the rest of the magic. He got one nipple right at one point, but it quickly spread, the bubbly surface affecting all of the magic like some kind of rash. 

“Bro, just...” Sans sighed, putting his hands on his face, mulling over any way to get this to get on. Then the idea hit him. He sat up. “Watch me, okay?” 

Sans shucked off his coat and quickly pulled his shirt over his head. He closed his eyes, focusing on his soul and letting it expand outside of itself. He felt the warmth of it spread to the outside of his ribcage, hooking over his shoulders and connecting down to his pelvis. His pudge formed almost immediately on instinct. But he purposefully kept his ecto-chest from forming. He needed to be an example. “Start off with nothin, right?”

“I don’t need your help,” Papyrus said. 

“I know. I’m just showin’ ya my strategy.”

“Well... if you must.” 

Sans smiled. That was as much support as he was gonna get from him. 

“I start out flat. Just the film and nothin more. So, I pull it out.” Sans put his hands on his chest and slowly outlined where he wanted his boobs to come from. Once that area was defined, he pulled his fingers into his palms, massaging as he bent his hands in half over and over, stroking the magic. He couldn’t help the way his breath shifted, becoming labored and coming exclusively from his nose. “I’m... I’m gathering the magic in my palms.” He could feel the burning, prickling heat of it against his bones. When the feeling got almost too much to bear, he opened his hands, letting the surplus of magic flow out, creating to massive, unrealistic growths on his chest. 

It was wrong and silly, and as soon as they were formed he cupped them and wiggled them in his hands. “Now this is just bazongas.”

“Christ, Sans!” Papyrus covered his blushing face, but his smile was still prominent. He appreciated the joke. Or he was just really embarassed and trying to make the situation slightly more comfortable. Sans didn’t really get it though. He liked the awkwardness that came with sex. It was a weird balancing act and a state of limbo that he fuckin’ loved. So, he gave an extra wiggle. 

“How much would these melons be worth at the market? Three-ninety-five?”

“Are you going to continue with your lesson or just tease me incessantly?!”

“Haven’t decided.” He looked down at his ridiculous chest. “But this is kinda uncomfortable, so Imma change it. And I’ll do so by pressing the magic back.” Like smoothing layers of sand off of a castle, Sans pressed his hands in the middle of each mound and then ran it down in a sloping gesture. The magic moved like play-doh under the exterior film, moving out of the mound and dispersing itself back into his body. He kept shaving the magic down like this until he liked the size and shape he was left with. 

He had been focusing on his own form, but he noticed Papyrus start to mold his chest in the same way. He seemed to be choosing them to be small, slightly pointed things. But not grossly pointy like they had been earlier. They were still soft and curved and didn’t look like pyramids growing from either side of his sternum. 

“Now comes the tricky bit.” He tapped the tip of his forefinger and thumb together. “The nips. The most important part is location, making sure they’re in the right spots. You don’t want a nip on the side of the boob. Normally, it’s good to find the peak of the mound you’ve made.” Sans let his pointer fingers move around his boobs, searching for the peaks as he spiraled and massaged. It was incredibly soothing. He almost wanted to lean back and just appreciate it. But he was teaching. “Once you find it, you gotta sculpt it. I start with a little pinch-twist.” He placed his finter tip on the peak, moved it to the underside of it and put his thumb on top. Once he had a grip on it, he squeezed and twisted, rolling it out just a bit. He repeated it with the other side, working the magic until he liked their shape and length. Then he let them go, let his finger spiral out around it and away, creating an areola. He pulled his hands away and gave them both a little wave. “And ta-da! Ya got a nice pair of tits.”

Papyrus was on the nipple forming stage. On the pert high peaks of his breasts, he pinched and squeezed and twisted to make his nipples. He didn’t do it for long, wanting them to be shorter, and didn’t even bother with the areola because he was so excited. He pulled his hands away immediately and started fanning himself. 

“OH MY GOD! OH I DID IT! THEY LOOK NORMAL!”

“They do, bro,” Sans said, relieved to have the preparation part of the night done after an hour and a half. He was eager to start, so he crawled forward on the bed, putting one hand on the bed in between Papyrus’s legs, leaning forward to get a good look at the orange ecto-flesh. “Wanna try ‘em out?” Papyrus looked down at him, his face flushed in arousal and excitement. Sans leant forward ever more, letting his smile spread as his breath brushed against his brother’s breast. The flesh reacted appropriately, rising in goose flesh as the nipple hardened slightly in anticipation. 

“Yes, please.”

Sans couldn’t believe they were finally going to start. He excitedly hung his jaw, leaning forward and taking his brother’s breast in his mouth. He bit a large portion of the breast gently, letting his tongue swirl against and around his nipple. Papyrus hummed, leaning back on his hand and covering his mouth, trying to stifle his sounds. Sans didn’t mind if he made sound. He was just excited to be doing anything. He pulled his mouth away, letting his teeth gently and slowly drag down the entirety of the breast, stopping on the nipple so he could suckle it, moving it with his tongue and pressuring the flesh. 

While he licked and sucked, he brought his other hand up to Papyrus’s left breast. He let the hand grope and feel, taking the flesh in fistfuls and letting his thumb rub circles over the peak. “Oh... Oh my.”

Sans pulled away with a kiss. “Feel good.”

“Mmhm, please continue.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” 

He gently pushed Papyrus down on the bed, straddling his hips and leaning over him. He kissed him lightly at first, a shallow quick thing, before he kissed him again, and again and again. By the fifth, their tongues were entwined. Once kissing, he brought his hands to Papyrus’s breasts again. They were formed and no amount of influence from his hands could change their shape. Sans wasn’t shy about tugging on the flesh. He clawed and groped, pinching the nipples and pulling them far before letting them return to their rightful place. He could feel Papyrus’s enjoyment through his hums and moans, the way he gasped and arched and squirmed below him.

“I’m not going to have all the fun,” Papyrus said. Sans didn’t have time to wonder what that meant before two hands came up and squeezed his breasts. Sans gasped in surprise. 

He hadn’t intended on forming his own chest. This was just going to be an exploration and pleasure-filled ride for Papyrus. And Sans was happy to provide that. But now that he had formed his breasts, he was vulnerable. And Papyrus took advantage. 

He was clumsy, but his hands were the perfect size to fondle Sans’s larger chest. He pushed the hanging flesh up close to his ribs and held them there before focusing on teasing his nipples. 

He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to this at all. And it was distracting, making his own treatment sloppy and less thought out. He was getting dizzy when Papyrus flipped them, devouring Sans’s mouth as he caressed and massaged him. Sans’s hands stuttered and fumbled over his brother’s breasts. Papyrus’s excited dry humping certainly didn’t help Sans get his bearings. His mind was fuzzy and his sockets were clenched shut as his tongue was sucked on. 

He was floating, his thoughts lost in their touches and gasps.

He needed to get a grip. He needed to make this onslaught of sensation stop. He moved his hand down Papyrus’s body, down to below his pants waistline, and then he desperately searched his labia for –

“S-weet mercy!” Papyrus tucked his head in Sans’s neck. It only took a few well-timed rubs before Papyrus came against his fingers. Papyrus trembled and crumbled above Sans. Without his wear-with-all, he was able to flip them over so his spasming brother could lay back on the bed. Sans sat up, still straddling Papyrus but taking his hands back to himself.

He closed his sockets and took a deep breath, focusing on calming his magic, making his upper ecto-body dissipate, leaving him with his clean rib cage. 

He felt better now. His only main sensory point was hidden under his pants now. It made him feel safer. And it made him fully appreciate the view under him. Papyrus was blinking back to reality, his fingers curling and twitching and his formed breasts moving with every breath. 

He leant down and kissed him. Papyrus was rather unresponsive at first, but the kiss awakened him. He breathed into it, leaning his head off the bed to meet him. He put his hands on either side of Papyrus’s head for support. He pulled away, looking down at his blissed out brother. He smiled. 

“That felt amazing.”

Sans never showed his pride. But he’d always think highly of his brother. And to bring Papyrus such pleasure made him beam with pride. He couldn’t wait to bring it again. “Ready for another round?”

Papyrus smiled, taking Sans’s face in his hands. 

“Do you even have to ask?”


	14. Day 14: Fucking Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Fucking Machine and Praise  
Pairing: BlueRazzberry
> 
> Blue wants to break his boyfriend's record with one of their favorite toys. Razz, while he cares about preserving his personal best, is more than happy to help Blue achieve his goals.

Razz got the machine set up. He put it at just the right angle, cleaned the dildo and fastened it safely, remade the bed and added a side table of things they made need. Extra blankets and pillows, towels, something to bite on, food in case Blue got hungry, plenty of water, a book to read, and the all-powerful remote. 

Now all he needed was the man of the hour. The man that was wanting to break his personal record of three hours twelve minutes. 

Blue came into the room. He was wearing a comfortable sweater, socks, and had a towel around his waist. He was beaming with excitement, but Razz could see the nerves that slightly shook his body. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He was concerned his boyfriend would break his record, but he also wanted to make sure Blue was actually ready for what he signed up for. 

Blue nodded. He removed the towel, revealing his pelvis and his conjured pussy, and lay the towel on the bed. He crawled onto it and angled himself in front of the machine before laying back. Razz loosened the machine, allowing it to reach over and go into Blue’s magic. Blue took a deep breath, his body shuddering as the dildo entered and found it’s resting place partially inside him, with plenty of move to room. He fastened the machine, tightening a hook and stabilizing the length. 

Blue’s body relaxed around the machine. 

Razz plugged the machine in and walked over to stand beside his boyfriend. Blue reached for his hand and Razz let him take it. He squeezed three times. Razz picked up the remote. 

“Last chance to back out,” he offered. Blue shook his head. He flashed his wily smile.

“Three and a half hours here we go!” 

Razz admired his positivity. He pushed the up button on the remote. The machine thrummed slightly before it started to move. It was slow, on a low level, moving deeper inside Blue before pulling out almost entirely, and then going back in again. Blue closed his eyes, clenching his jaw and groaning as the machine moved. Razz pushed up on the remote, speeding it up. 

He raised the speed until it was briskly pushing in and out. Blue’s body was moving slightly with each insertion. That wouldn’t do.

Razz tapped Blue’s shoulder. “Sit up best you can.” He did, though the action was labored. Razz climbed onto the bed, sitting behind him and creating a lap for him to lay back on. He helped Blue down to rest. It was a comfort thing, but also a way for Razz to keep him from moving too much and possible getting thrusted out of position. 

It also gave him a good opportunity to look down at his lover. They were only a few minutes in and Blue was already sweating from the pressure. His hands were at his sides and gripping the bed, desperate for something to hold on to to keep himself steady. 

After five minutes, he finally opened his sockets and took a relatively relaxed breath. “S’not so bad,” he said. 

“You say that now. You still have three hours and twenty-five minutes left to go.”

“Easy.”

Razz put a hand on his forehead, gently patting it and feeling the heat that emanated from his skull. “You just tell me if you need anything.”

“Ca-han do.”

Razz picked up the book he had set aside and started reading to himself, still petting his lover as he read. Blue trembled and shook as the machine pushed through him over and over and over again. Each thrust pushed his head further onto Razz’s lap. Back and forth, back and forth, hypnotizing. 

“Can you speed it up?” Blue asked. 

Razz clicked up on the remote, making the machine thrust faster. It made Blue move faster and faster, he mewled and squeaked until he completely spasmed on Razz’s lap. He recognized that motion. He had just wanted to get the orgasm as opposed to letting his nerves rest in a teasing plateau. Razz mercifully lowered the speed so Blue could relax. He nuzzled into Razz’s thigh. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know why you would ask for it to go faster. Aren’t you sore?” 

“Me? Of course not.” Blue had the audacity to wink. “This is nothing.”

“It’s not? Then you wouldn’t mind if I turned it up again?” Razz pushed up before getting an answer. He made it go to a brutal pace, fast and hard and incessant. Blue couldn’t help but squeak and moan, his breath coming out in quick shallow bursts. “Still easy?”

“I-hi ca-han d-hoo this a-hall day.“ He spoke with his eyes closed. Razz smiled. 

“Not all day. Just another three hours.”

“Eaaaa-sy.”

Razz got back to his book. He let Blue hold his forearm. He asked for the gag fifteen minutes later. It was a crude chew toy, violet in color and shaped like a stick. Every now and then Blue would wince and he’d bite on it harder before easing his tension and relaxing into the thrusts. 

Halfway through, Blue had experienced three orgasms. His pussy was wet, lubed up and making the dildo slick. As it moved, it made gross sounds akin to someone smacking their lips. His juices had leaked onto the towel and Blue didn’t care about any of it. He was just focusing on getting through. And, now, Razz was focusing on that too. He had put the book down and spent the afternoon letting his fingers trace and trail on Blue’s skull. 

“You’re doing so well. I could never have imagined you’d last this long. I’m so proud of you.” He hoped the words helped, but Blue didn’t respond. He just breathed and tried to get through it. 

He would never dare ask for the speed to go down. He had too much pride to do so. But, as adorable as Blue looked when his face was flushed blue and he was positively dizzy from pleasure, Razz wanted him to have fun with this – not just suffer through it. So, he turned the speed down. It allowed Blue to open his eyes, to pull the gag out of his mouth, and to let his death grip on Razz’s arm go. He took a deep breath. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. 

“I know, but I wanted to.” Razz let his fingers spin little circles on his skull. “You were doing so, incredibly well, so you deserve a little treat.” He smiled gently down at Blue. “Are you hungry?”

Blue shook his head. “But I am a little chilly.” Razz quickly pulled up a blanket he had set aside and lay it on top of Blue. He shivered into it, pulling the cover over his chin. He smiled, his body still shaking with the slowed movements of the machine. “How are you doing?”

“My legs are asleep.”

Blue tiredly giggled, rolling his head to one side. “I can’t feel my toes, so I can sympathize.”

“I can fix that.”

Razz got up, replacing himself with a pillow. It was soft and allowed Blue to lay back entirely as opposed to propping himself up. Razz moved to the bottom of the bed, his legs wobbling from the movement as he next to the machine. It thrummed and moved beside him. He reached forward and took Blue’s socked foot. “You’re taking this like a champion.” The foot flinched as he pressed his thumb in its middle, moving it up and down, flexing each of his foes and rolling the foot in its socket. “I believe in you, and I will always believe in you, but you’re doing better than I could have ever expected.” 

“I am?”

“Oh yes.” He moved to the other foot, giving it a thorough rub through the fabric. “I’m actually worried for my record. I think you have the potential to far surpass me.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do. At the rate you’re going, you’ll easily beat me.”

“I didn’t do this to beat you.”

Razz perked up. He left Blue’s feet to go sit by his head. “It’s not a competition?”

“I mean, obviously it is.” Razz loved that wily smile. “But it was more to impress than humiliate.” He looked Razz up and down, that smile still wide and his body still shaking with each penetration. “I see I’ve done that.”

“You have,” Razz hated to admit. “But you know what would impress me even more?”

“What?”

“If you made the next hour on thirteen.” Blue’s face went pale at the suggestion. “You don’t have to-“

“Do it,” Blue said. 

“It was just a-“

“Set it to thirteen.”

Razz reluctantly did as he was told, setting it higher. It had been a side comment. Yes, a teasing temptation, but he hadn’t meant for his lover to agree. But he did. And now his whole body shook. He craned his head back, letting his maw hang open, his legs bending and twitching, his toes grabbing and clawing at the air. Razz couldn’t turn the machine down now. Blue’s pride was at stake. But he could encourage him.

He lay down on the bed in the opposite direction of blue. He curled himself up and put a hand on Blue’s cheek, gently stroking his warm bones. Blue was flushed and his sockets were closed. But he tried to open them and look at his boyfriend. His eye lights were large and blurry and diluted, but Razz knew he could still see him. 

“You’re very brave. I would never dare take it at this speed for this long. And yet look at you. Your determination is amazing.” He kissed his forehead. “What else am I to expect from the magnificent Sans other than pure excellence?”

Blue tried to speak but his words came out as garbled sounds with an uneven breath. 

“Don’t talk. Just focus. I love you and you can do anything you set your mind to do.” He cooed and comforted Blue for the next hour. His praise became repetitive, but Blue was too blissed out to care as he experienced three other orgasms. He held Razz’s hand, squeezing tightly whenever the feelings got particularly intense. But then they subsided, and he returned to his stable state of torture.

And then the timer went off for three and a half hours. Blue seemed too over stimulated to hear it. Razz tried to get up to grab the remote, but Blue held him down. “Stay.”

“I’m just going to turn it off, kitten,” he soothed. He tried to get up again, but Blue held him down. 

“I can go longer.”

“Love, you’ve made it past time. You can be done, now.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” Blue said with a wink. 

Snarky little shit. 

Razz lay down beside him again, staring into his face until, finally, thirty minutes later, Blue slapped his hand against the bed. “Off! Off! Turn it off!”

Razz lept up in a flurry and turned the machine off. It slowed to a hault, finishing with a slow, pain-staking pull out. Blue scooted back, pulling himself off and nearly yelping from the pain. The dildo and the towel were covered with his blue magic, but also another liquid. It wasn’t just his arousal or come, but a deep color that looked too rich to be healthy.

“I think I tore something,” Blue muttered. He stretched himself, laying down first before sitting up. Again, wincing and hissing. He closed his eyes and concentrated, likely trying to make his battered cunt to unform. “I can’t get it to go away.”

“Then you definitely hurt something.” Razz sat beside him offering his hand. “I can go in and se-“

“Nothing is going inside me for a good long time,” Blue said. But he did lean against his shoulder, holding his arm before folding his legs. He winced again, but he seemed content. “Still proud of me even though I tapped out?”

Razz sighed. “While I’m not pleased that you may have pushed yourself to a literal breaking point, I am amazed that you willingly made it four hours and three minutes.” Blue fist-pumped before looking at his boyfriend. His overstimulation hadn’t kept him down for long as he smiled teasingly. 

“Beat that.”

“You’re the worst.”

He cuddled him close, letting him rest until he felt well enough to get up. All the while, Razz planned his strategy to make it to four hours and twenty minutes. Blue may have wanted the record to impress, but Razz definitely just wanted to beat him. 

But he’d save beating him for later. Now, he could kiss his forehead and pulse healing magic from his soul, hopefully fixing whatever damage had occurred to Blue’s summoned genitalia.


	15. Day 15: Cuckold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Cuckolding  
Pairing: BlueRazzberry with a side of Mustard
> 
> Red comes over to cuckold Razz by pleasuring a touch-starved Blue.

Blue sat on the bed in his robe. Razz sat in the recliner in the corner of their guest bedroom. They were just waiting for their third to arrive. Blue was struggling to hide his nerves.

It was a bi-monthly tradition. Nothing they were going to do tonight would be out of the ordinary. In fact, it was practically routine. So, he shouldn’t have been worried. 

Except he was. His marrow was filled with a deep-seeded doubt that made him clench his jaw and kept him from eating all day. And it was all because of Razz. This extracurricular that happened every other Tuesday never affected their regular sex routine. They had agreed it was strictly to spice up their love life a little. Adding a third partner added a new dimension to their sex lives and was only a form of enhancement. 

So why did Razz refuse to touch Blue for the last week and a half. They had sex three days after the last time Red came over, and never again. Blue had tried to instigate something. He made a romantic dinner, he slept naked, he made his interests clear in every way he could. He even straight up asked Razz if they could do it one night. 

His boyfriend shrugged him off, saying he was tired. 

Blue wondered if something was wrong with him. There had to be for Razz to refuse him so consistently.

They heard the front door open downstairs. Blue’s bones rattled when he heard the footsteps on the stairs. And then the man of the hour entered the room. 

“Sorry ‘im late,” he said. 

“You should be. You kept us both waiting.”

Red blinked, pausing halfway through the process of taking off his jacket. “Uh, yeah, hence the sorry.” He hung is jacket up on the coat rack. He kicked off his shoes and walked over to the bed, taking his shirt off in the process. 

“Ya ready ta get fucked, sweetheart?” Red asked Blue. He didn’t answer at first. He was a bit too distracted by how hot Red looked. He had always thought Red was attractive, that’s why they invited him as their third. Maybe it was because Razz had deprived him for nearly two weeks. Or maybe it was because Red had that look in his eyes that let Blue know he was in for the time of his life.

Regardless, he felt his cunt form immediately. 

“Get on with it, already,” Razz practically growled. 

“Jeez.” Red looked to Blue and waggled his thumb at Razz. “Did you spit in his bean curd?” Blue shook his head. He had no idea what horrible stick was presently shoved up his boyfriend’s magical ass. But he wanted to rip it out and crack it in half. 

Maybe he could do that by fucking Red’s brains out. Anything was worth a try. 

Blue stood up and let his robe fall to the floor. Red’s eyes grew hungry, his mouth physically watering at the sight of him. He crawled onto the bed as Red frantically shucked off his shorts. 

He waited on his knees for Red to mirror him, which he did, per usual. Blue had half a mind to sass his boyfriend and ask for permission to start. But that wasn’t how they played this game. When Blue and Red were together like this, Razz’s opinion didn’t matter. He was too busy getting cuckolded to be bossy. 

Red started the night with a tender kiss. It was soft and slow, with the intent to romance Blue into the mood. Frankly, he was so grateful to be kissed that he didn’t care about the romance. He was desperate for sensual touch. So, when Red kissed him, he aggressively reciprocated, clawing his hands against his skull in an attempt to get him closer. Red’s initial surprise didn’t last long. Feeling Blue’s eagerness, he growled, firmly grabbing Blue’s upper arms and biting his tongue. 

It hurt, but he was thirsty for it regardless. He’d been starving and now he was finally getting fed. He would get his fill. 

He grabbed Red’s collar bones in his hand. It was an uncomfortable place to grab a skeleton and Red winced. “We didn’t call you here to kiss me.”

“Then why’d ya call me here?” His voice was low and gravelly, already aroused. He was using a free hand to play with his pelvis in an attempt to form his cock. Blue yanked him closer by the collar bone. His smug smile hadn’t left his face. 

“You’re here to fuck me. So get to it.”

Red grabbed Blue’s wrists. One was sticky with the precum he’d been rubbing over his newly formed cock, and now it was on Blue. Wonderful. Red pressed his forehead against Blue’s. “It will be my god damn pleasure.” 

He pushed Blue. He let go of Red’s collar bone so he could fall back on the bed. When he looked craned his head back, he could see Razz. He was upside and so was the chair. His face was flushed from watching them so far, but he hadn’t summoned anything of his own to play with. 

What? Were they not hot enough for him yet? 

He had gotten distracted, so he didn’t notice Red grabbing his hips and arching him into a bridge position. He hadn’t been asked to be in this position since he was in fifth grade to test his flexibility in Phys Ed. His teacher had probably never expected it to have this application.

Red took a moment to finger him. It was a simple gesture. Ordinarily, it would have felt like nothing. But he was so touch-starved that the feeling of a single phalange in his cunt made him moan shamefully. It was excessive and he barely recognized the sound that came out. 

“Sweetheart, have you been neglected?” Red asked. His tone was partially partially teasing. But they’d been doing this for long enough that Blue recognized the genuine concern. He hoped it would sound just as unfair to Red as it felt to Blue, so he was more than happy to tell the truth. 

“My boyfriend hasn’t touched me in two weeks.”

“That useless little bitch.” Red glanced at Razz. Blue refused to look at his boyfriend. “Well, if he won’t appreciate what he’s got, then I’ll be happy ta give ya what you need.”

“Oh, oh I need it.” The words made his voice shake. He was practically desperate. “I need it so badly.”

“And you got it sweetheart.”

He thrusted into him. Blue nearly went blind. In the two-week drought, his cunt had tightened from lack of usage. And he could feel the difference. Red felt so much bigger in him. His girth was stretching his walls, making Blue see stars in the void from the pure, physical ecstasy he was experiencing. 

Red held his hips, thrusting into him. The room filled with their disgusting sounds of sexual contact. His cunt was already sore from how it was being used. Blue clenched his teeth and swore through them. It hurt so much. And yet it hurt so good. His nerves were on absolute fire. The surface of his bones burned like hot sand on the beach as his magic heated and clenched around Red. He sweat and his tongue lolled out and he was seeing stars and they had just started. A hand explored his floating ribs. 

“So fucking ripe. Look at you, an unused doll desperate for touch. Don’t worry, your boyfriend may not know how to treat ya right, but I do.” The hand moved from his ribs to his clit. 

He yelled. He actually yelled. He was crumbling so quickly under Red. And it maddened him. Experiencing pleasure could be a form of revenge, but he was mad that Razz wasn’t the one touching him. He was his boyfriend. This was his job. Red was good, but he was the side dish. Razz was the main course. 

He dared himself to look at his boyfriend. His vision was blurry, but he could still make out Razz. He had his hand down his pants, magic glowing from the agape fly. He had formed a cunt too. And he was jilling himself off to the sight of Blue getting fucked. 

Fuck him for getting pleasure from this. Fuck him for keeping Blue at arm’s length for two weeks. Fuck him for – 

“Ah!” Something pinched and he looked at Red. His eyelight was glowing brightly. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare think about him. I’m the one that’s fuckin’ you now.” Blue nodded and kept eye contact with Red. His skull was covered in red sweat. He leant over Blue to lick and scrape his teeth against his sternum. It heated his bones and sent electricity up his marrow. “Treatin’ you right. Givin’ what ya deserve. Makin’ ya f-heel good.”

“Only you. You’re the only one who does – ah!” He leant his head back, eyes closed, the overstimulating sensations were taking over him. His bones rattled and shook and he could feel the orgasm come. It rose up from deep in him, crawled up an unbeaten yet familiar path, and racked through him, rising up his spine and barreling out his mouth.

It was guttural and animalistic and passed through him too quickly. As soon as it was finished, Blue was hungry for more. the lack of contact had made him simultaneously over sensitized and insatiable. It was the best orgasm he had had in months. And he knew exactly why. 

Red pounded frantically into Blue, using him as a toy to get himself off. He eventually did. Yelled and sputtered inside him. He pulled himself out and let Blue’s hips down. “Ya ready for round two, sweetheart?”

Blue didn’t know how to respond. He did want a round two, but not with Red. Before he could muster a response, Razz came into view. “Thanks for coming, Red. I can take him from here.”

Red snorted. “You gotta be shittin’ me. You get to fuck him all you want all the time, and you don’t. Now that it’s my time, you want a turn?” 

“YES.”

The word was powerful, authoritative, and final. Blue looked to Red, knowing the debate was over. 

“Fine.” Red got off the bed and poked Razz in the chest. “But don’t give me shit for being late next time.”

“Then don’t be late.”

“ThEN doN’t be LaTE,” Red mocked. He pulled his pants up, put on his shirt, carelessly put his shoes on and threw his coat over his shoulder before leaving. 

As soon as the guest room door closed, Razz started undressing. Blue was still a little blissed out, so his reaction was slow when Razz crawled onto the bed beside him. He cupped his cheek. “How did that feel?”

“Amazing.” Razz smiled, the smug bastard. “And you knew it would be amazing because you tortured me all week.” He played his fingers over Blue’s skull. 

“Food never tastes better than when you’re hungry.” Blue had been distracted by the hand on his face and hadn’t noticed Razz move his hand down to his pelvis. So, he jumped when someone else’s finger touched his pussy lips. “And, I must say, it was so hot to watch someone else give you such much needed pleasure.” He leant forward, letting his breath tease his boyfriend. “So, are you ready for some dessert?”

Blue took Razz’s face in his hands. “You don’t even have to fucking ask.” He kissed him. 

Blue spent the night quenching a week long thirst. And he wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied.


	16. Day 16: Hotdogging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Hotdogging  
Pairing: Kustard
> 
> Just some soft sleepy sex between Sans and Red.

Sans was playing chess with Toriel. Except all of her pieces were queens and Sans only had knights. There was no way in hell he was going to win, but he was making a dent in her army. 

At least, he had been - until a heat started forming in his crotch. 

He shifted in his seat, trying to decrease the warmth that was becoming more and more consistent. Toriel asked him if something was wrong and he brushed her off, insisting that he could beat her. She took another of his knights. 

He couldn’t think about his next move. And because he took too long, she moved again. And again. He had three knights left and a fully formed bulge in his pants. He didn’t get it, there was absolutely nothing sexy about chess.

A ghost hand reached up and tugged at his ribs. He gasped, the fondle ripping him from his dream.

He wasn’t playing a rigged chess game with Toriel. He was in his bed. His boyfriend, Red, was spooning him from behind and holding his ribs, nuzzling his face into Sans’s neck. Sans tried to roll but was held firmly in place. Or he just didn’t try hard enough to get away. He didn’t really object to the hold anyway. 

“Red, babe, you awake?” No response, just a readjustment where Red held him tighter. He could feel his boyfriend’s magic press against the back of his pelvis. He could also feel the ecto-butt he had formed in his sleep, probably because of Red’s unconscious grinding. And, as appealing as the grinding was, it wasn’t doingg enough for Sans. 

He moved his hand down into his pants to find an already formed cock thirsty for touch. He took it in his hand and jacked himself, lazily moving up and down the shaft, matching Red’s rhythm. His boyfriend growled behind him in his sleep, nibbling at his neck. It was all fuel for his raging arousal. He moaned, using another hand to play with his floating ribs, teasing himself, feeling everything build inside him. Red had prepped him for a long time apparently in his dreams because Sans came sooner than he expected. His cum splattered in his boxers. He trembled and let out a squeaky moan. 

Red snorted awake and now consciously nuzzled into Sans’s neck. “Doin’ all the fun stuff while I’m asleep, are ya?” 

“Only cause your dry humping ruined my dreams,” Sans said, turning his head slightly. Red craned up so he could look down at his boyfriend. 

“Bullshit, it only made it better.” He kissed his vertebrae. “Was I in your dreams?”

Sans knew his answer would piss Red off, and he was excited to see what the agitation would make him do. “Actually, you weren’t. I was busy playing chess with Tori, if you must know.” Red growled possessively. 

“Is chess a metaphor for somethin’?”

“Surprisingly no.” Sans played coy, looking away from his boyfriend. “Although, I must say, you rudely interrupted our game.”

“Not too rudely if ya already jacked yourself,” Red purred. The vibration racked down Sans’s body, bringing his recently satiated arousal back from the dead. “Gotta say, it’s a little unfair you got off so fast.”

“Only cause you’re horny in your sleep.”

“I’m even hornier when I’m awake.” His teeth scraped against Sans’s temple. “Mind if I satisfy myself?”

“It’s your fuckin’ pleasure,” Sans encouraged. Red kissed the back of his head before arranging them. The warmth from behind him became intense as Red pulled his cock out of his shorts. Then he rolled down Sans’s pants. He pushed his butt back into Red, teasing him. “How ya want me?”

“Just as ya are.” He fixed his hips. Sans’s ass cheeks were spread and Red put his cock in between them, letting Sans’s ass hold it in place. He was pleasantly surprised. Normally Red went straight for anal. Sans agreed to it out of a want to please him, but it wasn’t his favorite. Maybe Red was catching him a break. Or maybe he was just too lazy to prep him, so he was settling for hot dogging him, instead. “Roll with the punches, if ya can keep up.”

“You know I can.”

Red started thrusting against him. His cheeks moved and burned from the friction of Red’s cock moving back and forth in between them. It was warm and he could feel Red’s soul beat. His boyfriend held his ribs, looping his fingers through the gaps in order to keep Sans close. He kept his butt out, trying not to tense the ecto-flesh in order to maintain just the right level of taught to maximize both their pleasures. 

Red put his forehead against the middle of Sans’s back, concentrating on jacking himself with Sans’s blue butt cheeks. It wasn’t that pleasure giving for Sans, but the sounds that Red was making were enough to keep his motor running. His boyfriend grunted and mewled, cursing softly and whispering erotic nothings against Sans’s bones. 

The words made his marrow heat and he couldn’t help but bring his hand back to his junk. He didn’t have that much more load to blow, but he wanted to try and get a second orgasm from this. His cock was still lubed from the first orgasm, so it was easy for him to start his strokes back up. He couldn’t help his shallow breath or how it came in tandem with Red’s. 

His boyfriend thrusted harder and deeper, his cock bumping against the bottom of Sans’s shaft, making both their nerves spike in excitement from feeling something else that was equally as hot. 

Red didn’t last much longer. He finished with a sputtering thrust, his cum joining Sans’s in coating the front of his shorts. It gave Sans the extra thrill he needed to come a second time. 

Red was too tired to keep his magic still formed and it quickly dissipated. Sans pried off his boyfriend’s hands and Red whined. “Where ya goin, sweetheart?”

“Gotta change my shorts. I don’t usually care about grime, but three ejaculations worth of cum in my shorts is just a bit too much for me to sleep in.”

“Ew, why’d ya gotta say it like that?”

“Cause it’d make you say ‘ew’.” Sans winked at Red. Red flipped him off. 

Sans took off his boxers and put on a clean pair to sleep in. He crawled into the bed, curling into Red. His boyfriend happily cuddled him, pulling him close. “I’m not gonna try and hump ya in my sleep again, but no promises.”

Sans kissed Red’s chest. “It’s all good. I don’t mind if you’re a horny spaz when ya sleep.” Red flicked him on the forehead. 

“Shut up and go back to sleep.”

He did as told. They fell asleep holding each other, their legs entangled and their souls in sync. He was back to his dream where he was playing chess with Toriel. They were a few moves behind from where they left off. She kept taking all of his pieces. Sans didn’t mind though. 

His dream self was eagerly waiting to feel the ghost hand grab him again.


	17. Day 17: Lap Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Lap Dance, Strip Tease, Scars  
Pairing: DT!Sans/FS!Papyrus
> 
> Their one night stand (Ch.12) has a sequel. Sansy's catching feelings and wants to persuade Mutt to advance their relationship.

Sansy was eager to get Mutt home. He hadn’t really expected the skeleton to come back to the bar. He also hadn’t expected him to come onto the dance floor when he gestured for him to join. Mutt didn’t move much. He focused mostly on holding Sansy’s hips as he swung them. With a partner, he couldn’t dance to his fullest extent, but he hoped he still gave him a satisfying show. 

He danced them into the corner of the room where the music wasn’t as loud. Mutt was significantly taller than him. The gangly monster would be even taller if he held himself straight. Instead, he hunched over, gladly looking down at Sansy. “I made a show just for you,” Sansy said.

“Did you?”

“Yeah, but I can’t show you here.” He winked. “Wanna come home with me, stud? See what I gotta show ya?” Mutt straight up groped Sansy’s pelvis. 

“Take me wherever ya want, angel.” Sansy flushed at the nickname before holding Mutt tight and teleporting them to his bedroom, right in front of the chair he had set up for this very purpose. He pushed Mutt onto it. Mutt smiled, pleasantly surprised, that giant golden tooth glowing in the mood lighting. He put his arm over the back of the chair and spread his legs wide. “Someone planned ahead.”

“What can I say, I always rehearse before a performance.” Sansy stepped back. He pointed his finger at the stereo in the corner, letting his magic flare to push the CD tray into the player. The sound of dainty symbols filled the room, along with the chorus of pussycat dolls as they drummed up to their lyrics. He moved his hips to the drums as he walked toward Mutt. His sockets were wide as he approached. The lyrics of the chorus hit and he popped to the ground before springing back up to walk around his audience. He moved his hands on his shoulders, spinning and keeping his toes pointed before passing in front of him again. He let his pelvis pass near Mutt’s, inches from touching him before he stepped away. 

The first stanza started and he started stripping, slowly unzipping his hoodie, letting it hang and show off his ribs before he shucked it off, letting it slide from his shoulders to rest on the crooks of his elbows. He approached Mutt again, this time slamming his foot in between his legs – rousingly close to his crotch. Mutt flushed. 

He loved when Mutt looked caught off guard. Good thing he had more surprises in store. 

He whipped his jacket off, holding one sleeve in his hand as he looped it around Mutt’s neck. He turned his foot, bending his knee as he humped the air, leaning his pelvis closer and closer to Mutt’s leg, bringing his face just as tantalizingly close to Mutt’s. His audience tried to lean forward and kiss him, but he pulled away, leaving his coat around his shoulders as he spun away. 

He krunked his shoulders, shifting and stilling them as necessary to make it look mechanical before bending into a fluid wave. He prayed Mutt saw the scar he had left from the last time. Sansy thought the ring of teeth marks would have healed away by now. But they were still there. The scar was likely permanent, a mark on his shoulder forever. And, if he had read Mutt’s intentions correctly, he had intended to leave a brand. So, Sansy wanted to show it off. 

It seemed to be working. Mutt was practically drooling. He clenched his hands to keep them to himself. 

Sansy came to Mutt again, boldly straddling his hips and standing on his toes. He held the fur of Mutt’s coat as he twerked his pelvis, rising up and down on his lap without making any actual contact. Mutt was sweating. 

Good. 

He kept one hand tightly hanging onto the coat as he leant back, letting his pelvis rotate between them. He leaned further and further, raising an arm and stretching it behind him. He stretched further and further back, letting the motions of his pelvis continue up his spine and making his torso move undulating and erotic waves. 

Like the night they met, he could feel Mutt’s eyes burning through his bones. He was moments away from taking Sansy’s hands in his hips. And he couldn’t let that happen, not yet. So he leant back ever farther until he was bent clear over, his hand resting on the ground. He used the hand that tethered him to Mutt to push off, lifting his hips and stretching his legs, letting them make a Y shape in the air before he spun and came back to a stand. 

He had about thirty seconds left in the song. He approached Mutt one last time, this time turning around to wriggle and spin down into a squat, resting his pelvis on his heels before coming back up and sticking his butt in Mutt’s face before whipping the rest of his body up, looking down at his audience over his shoulder, right over the bite mark. 

The song had finished, but afterwards ensued this light instrumental track – something perfect to make love to after a titillating tease.

Mutt finally put his hands on Sansy’s hips. “I must say, that was certainly tantalizing.” He hooked his thumbs in Sansy’s sweatpants. “You got anything summoned down there?” He had to admit, dancing for Mutt like that had spurred his magic to form his pussy. 

“Who wants to know?”

Mutt put his hands down Sansy’s pants, betting his long fingers splay against his vulva. “An interested party.” He stood up, standing close behind him. He used one hand to handle his own fly and the other to lower Sansy’s pants, giving him enough room to slowly insert himself inside his pussy. It twitched inside him, and he couldn’t help but wiggle his hips to the music, rubbing against what was inside. He reached his hands back, one to hold the back of Mutt’s head, the other to hold the side of his lover’s pelvis. Mutt rest his hands on Sansy, one on his sternum, the other on the front of his crotch, controlling his movements and his closeness. 

They rocked together, grinding into each other and moving in sync. Mutt tucked his face into the shoulder that had the bite mark scar, practically inhaling it as he rolled and thrusted. Sansy kissed the side of his partner’s skull as he took him, slowly and sensually. His cock felt as amazing as Sansy had fantasized, filling him just a little too much and pulsing inside him.

Mutt slid his finger down his partner’s panys, feeling his clitoris. Sansy moaned, pushing back against Mutt’s pelvis. They had been in time with the song. They had been lyrical and artistic, but now they were starting to feel too much. Sansy couldn’t keep track of where they were in the song anymore. His senses were completely filled by Mutt. His hands, his smell, his teeth and tongue and hips... He was blinded by his partner, stripped down to nothing more than a dancer enchanted by his audience. 

Mutt wasn’t hypnotized, though. He picked Sansy up, threw him face down on the bed, and stopped with the romancing. He pounded him from behind, pulling lovesick mewls and groans out of him until Sansy felt Mutt twitch inside him, orgasm racking through his body and finding release in the warm ecto-flesh 

In his orgasmic stupor, he bent over and bit his shoulder, his teeth landing in the same marks as before. The pressure and pain, as the first time, were surprisingly stimulating. The bite let the pleasure break through Sansy’s ceiling of pleasure, letting his own orgasm come on. He gripped and clenched on Mutt’s cock, inciting a groan from him that made both their marrow quake. 

Mutt pulled out and Sansy pulled up his pants. He rolled over onto his back. He looked up at Mutt, who was already collecting himself. Dread rose in him. “Aren’t you gonna stay?”

“Sorry, angel, I got work in the mornin’.” Mutt leant down and kissed Sansy, shoving his tongue down his throat. Maybe if he kissed well enough, his lover wouldn’t leave. 

Mutt pulled away before Sansy could do any physical persuading. “You gonna come back to the bar?” he asked. Mutt shrugged. Sansy started to feel panic. “Ya know, if you give me your number, then we can do this whenever you want, not just when I see ya starin’ at me from the bar.” He hoped he had properly hidden his desperation. He had worried that the last time would be the only time he’d see him. And now, that fear was rising again. He didn’t want this to be the last time. 

Mutt looked him up and down before speaking, “Call me a cab, and I’ll give ya my number.”

Sansy called him a cab. He put on a shirt and Mutt gave him his number. He gave him a kiss on the forehead, just like last time, before climbing into the car and driving off. 

Sansy’s phone was hot in his hand. He texted immediately, putting his number into Mutt’s phone by sending the message. He didn’t want to be the one to text first for their next night of fun, so he waited patiently. 

He ended up texting first three weeks later.

Sansy only breathed again when Mutt accepted his invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has a part three on Day 25, go there if you want an emotional continuation of their relationship.


	18. Day 18: Gloryholes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Gloryholes, genital piercings  
Pairing: Unintentional Fellcest
> 
> Red sucks dicks for extra money. Today, he gets an unforgettable client.

On the third floor of the public library, there was a bathroom. It was a disgusting cesspool, where addicts did drugs, people threw up, the homeless took showers, and all manner of sexual activities went on. Mostly masturbation, except for in the third and fourth stalls. In the partition between the cubicles was a hole. The opening, with a slightly bigger diameter than that of the bottom of a wine bottle, was lined with duct tape to sooth the edges so as not to turn whatever you chose to shove through it. 

Red was very familiar with the fourth stall. He spent many a day in there, avoiding his chores and duties. It probably wasn’t the best use of his time, but what could he say? He liked suckin’ dick and there was always dick to suck at the library. 

Also the people who worked at the library were so scared of the unholy diseases that coated the bathroom’s walls that it was the one place that was most certainly unregulated. 

Red sat on his ivory throne, legs tucked up and scrolling through his phone. He put a little sticky note in the third stall with instructions: “slide in five bucks, then your dick”. He had gotten three bites today. Fifteen dollars wasn’t a bad turn out. He was almost ready to kick out when a single five dollar bill was held through the whole with two gloved fingers. 

Red took the bill. It was immaculate. Normally the paper notes he got were torn, stained, and sometimes moist, and always in singles. The five was neatly folded, smelled clean, and had retained its shape aside from two creases that kept it folded and compact. 

Not his usual clientele, but he was sure whoever this John was, his dick would be cleaner than anything he had put in his mouth prior. He got on his knees on the bathroom floor. He was a slob, but he was looking forward to showering when he got home. He rolled his head, waiting for the dick to come through. 

And boy fuck did it come through. 

The first thing he noticed was that it was ecto. That meant it belonged to a skeleton monster like him. The second thing to note was that it was red. It shone and lit his dank stall with red mood lighting, like a lava lamp. 

He knew a handful of skeletons. He had half a mind to start listing names and waiting to see if his John responded. But they likely wouldn’t say anything in acknowledgement to avoid embarrassment. Hell, Red didn’t want anyone know that his side gig was sucking dicks through a glory hole in the library. And whoever was on the other side was paying for sex, so not only were they shameful, but they were breaking a law. 

So he kept his tongue tied and looked at the cock before him. It was long, slender, and ended in a straight point. It had ridges up the sides and borderline hooks on the underside of the shaft. There was also a piercing through the frenulum. 

He couldn’t help but admire it. It was well dressed, elegant... dare he say it was a handsome cock. 

He licked his teeth with his summoned ecto tongue before licking the palm of his hand. He wrapped it around the base of the cock, giving a light squeezed as he rotated his grip. He licked the piercing, feeling the weight of the cool metal against his tongue before giving it a spin. He gently tugged on the ball bearings before he opened his mouth and took the first half of the cock in his mouth. He made a seal between his wet hand and his wet teeth, ostensibly taking the whole length in one warm go.

The cock twitched in his hand and against his tongue. He sucked the flesh, moving his head and hand back in a single motion before taking it again. He moved back and forth, letting the piercing move from the tip to the back of his tongue. He took him faster and faster, sucking and slurping as he went. 

He could feel the chad stiffen. He was a quiet client, not making any more sound than a single grunt here and there. He couldn’t tell if that was from inexperience, or if he was actually veteran at this. 

He wanted to know. 

He let his hand go and started licking the shaft emphatically, trying to trigger more noise from the man on the other side of the wall. He kissed along the sides, he lapped at the underside, he took the length into his throat and hummed. Still nothing. This guy had the stiffest upper lip Red had ever not heard. 

He pulled himself off the cock before hovering in front of it, letting his breath cool the moist skin. It gave him an opportunity to appreciate the member again, but it was mostly to tease whoever owned it. He could still feel the heat coming off of it as it twitched in anticipation When it was back to dry, Red put his tongue flat against the flesh. The John gasped. That’s what he was talking about.

He licked up the left and down the right side, kissed the tip and then took the cock wholly again. But this time he wasn’t using his hand to add length. He took the dick all the way to the root of his tongue, where the tip of it touched his neck vertebrae. It was a stretch, but it was as deep as he could go. Once there, he swallowed. He felt a drop of precum rub against the back of his throat. He didn’t have a gag reflex, but he did feel obstructed, breathing hard through his nasal cavity as he held it in his jaw.

Red put his hands flat on the stall’s partition, bracing himself for the next step. This had to get a big sound out of the client. It was a tactic he reserved for special occasions, A.K.A when he felt like trying. He loosened his jaw, giving him enough space to easily move the dick in and out of his mouth. And then he started slamming his head back and forth. He put his spine into the movement. He nearly slammed his nasal bridge against the wall. And every time he pulled back he almost let the cock slip entirely from his mouth. 

He went as fast as he could, taking him as deeply, quickly, efficiently as possible.

The dick twitched once in his mouth before it finally shook with orgasm. The cum shot into the back of his throat. Red swallowed through it, taking all of it down his throat and squeezing all he could out of the magic. 

It tasted sweeter than normal. This John seemed like the type to think everything through. Red wouldn’t be surprised if he had purposefully eaten pineapple and other fruits before this to make sure that his cum wasn’t salty and disgusting. He didn’t mind the taste at all, actually. He might have liked it if it came as a popsicle flavor.

He pulled off, taking a breath and watching the cock disappear through the glory hole. That had been good. The cock had been clean and warm... hell, he enjoyed it that time. He almost wished the John would put another five bucks through so he could go again. He waited for the money or for the sound of the John leaving. To his pleasant surprise, two fingers came through the hole. But it wasn’t holding a five, it was just holding a single dollar bill. Still neatly folded, but not enough to pay for a round two. So why was he putting it through the hole? 

“A tip, to thank you for your service. That was excellent.”

He recognized the voice. Dear lord, he recognized the voice. 

And it was his brother’s.

He nearly vomitted right there. He had just sucked Boss’s cock. And apparently he’d done a decent enough job that Boss was giving him a tip. He wanted to push it away. Say “no thank you”. Scream who he was in shame because he needed someone to know what he had just done. 

But he couldn’t do that. If he yelled or spoke, then Boss would recognize his voice as Red had just done his. And he couldn’t live with that shame. His brother couldn’t know what he did in his spare time. 

So, out of necessity and fear, he took the dollar without touching either of his brother’s gloved fingers. He crawled onto the seat, getting out of eyesight if Boss decided to look through the hole. 

Thankfully, he didn’t. The door of the third stall opened and he recognized Boss’s boots click against the dirty tile as he walked out of the bathroom. Only when he heard the exterior door close did he turn to the toilet. He shoved his fingers down his throat and vomited up everything he had swallowed during this shift. 

He had sucked his brother’s dick. He had swallowed his cum. And he had liked every second of it. 

“Motherfucker,” he groaned. He waited an hour before leaving. Someone held five dollars through the hole and he just shoved the money back through. He was out of order. He just couldn’t leave until he was sure his arrival at home wouldn’t be viewed as suspicious. 

When enough time passed, he left the fourth stall, took his note off the wall in the third stall, washed his hands in the dirty sink, and then walked home. He would have teleported, but he was too disgusted with himself to allow him that luxury. 

When he got home, Boss acted like he hadn’t gotten a blowjob earlier that afternoon from a supposed stranger and simply acted normal, telling Red to wash up for dinner. 

Red said he didn’t feel well and was just gonna see Boss in the morning. He didn’t wait to hear his brother’s response before he locked himself in the bathroom. He stripped and stood under scalding water, scrubbing his bones and his tongue clean. He went back to his room and lay back on his bed. He rummaged through the pile of dirty clothes and pulled the neat tip out of one of his pockets, straightened it and held it above his head. 

His brother had solicited sex through a glory hole at the public library. 

Red had made six bucks sucking his brother’s dick. 

And he liked it. 

He put the dollar over his face in disgust and shame. He couldn’t shake the truth of the matter. The truth that, despite all sense and all morals and all that he was raised to know as truth, he had liked sucking his brother’s dick. 

And a sick twisted part of him wanted to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This relationship will be continued on Day 20.


	19. Day 19: Shotgunning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: shotgunning   
Pairing: MapleBlossom (sf!papyrus/ut!papyrus)
> 
> Rus and Papyrus share a smoke.

Rus stood on the roof of his apartment building. There was a drum kit up there that belonged to a kid on the fourth floor, a shed full of pigeons for the man who lived on floor seven, and an old couch that belonged to Rus. He picked it up on the street and brought it up here, giving him a cozy place to smoke without standing on the sidewalk. 

He didn’t find himself retreating to smoking as an escape like he used to. He smoked now mostly because he craved it. It tasted like a past that he wasn’t forced to live in anymore and reminded him of the reality he now had. His life was so much better now.

Smoking was a reminder of that. 

Rus sat on the cushions. He pulled a packet of echo flower cigs out of his coat pocket. He had smoked three sticks in the past and the box was still pretty sturdy. It didn’t look like a pack that had been carried around for a month. Besides the three missing cigs, he could’ve sold it as brand new. 

He put a cig between his teeth, pocketed the pack, and started searching for his lighter. It wasn’t in his coat pockets. He pat his jeans too and still found nothing. He checked the grody cracks of the sofa for it. Had he lost it?

“Um, flower?”

He looked up. Papyrus, his shining light, stood next to the couch, his hand outstretched with Rus’s lighter between his gloved fingers. It was fall. He wore a scarf and a nice sweater to keep him warm. He was dressed for a night outside, not for delivering a lighter. 

Regardless, Rus smiled and took the lighter from his boyfriend. “Thanks, love, thought I lost it.”

“You just left it downstairs.” Papyrus smiled before gesturing to the couch. “May I join you?”

Papyrus never joined Rus outside for his occasional smoke. It was very out of the ordinary. But he couldn’t deny that face. So, Rus scoot over and patted the spot next to him. Papyrus sat down, wiggling comfortably into a permanent position and leaning his head on Rus’s shoulder. Normally, Papyrus was on top of the cuddling. But, tonight, Rus got to put his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders instead. 

He lit the cig, pocketed the lighter, took a breath and pulled the joint out of his mouth, letting the flowery smoke float out from between his teeth. It was chilly enough that Rus couldn’t tell if the majority of the vapor was from smoking or from his cold breath. Regardless, he made an impressive cloud before putting it back between his teeth for another puff. 

Papyrus worried the hem of Rus’s sweatshirt. “What does it taste like?” he asked. Rus breathed out again. 

“You know the way an echoflower smells?”

“Yeah.”

“Like that.”

“Ah.” 

He could feel Papyrus’s eyes on him, watching his every move as he sucked on the cigarette before pulling it out, letting out a cloud, and returning the joint to its proper place. 

“What does it feel like?”

Rus furrowed his brow. He didn’t understand where this curiosity was suddenly coming from, but he was more than happy to answer any questions he could. He had gathered years of experience being a regular smoker, the least he could do was use that information to educate others. 

He smiled sadly as he thought of his answer. “A little like a hug, but it’s sad. Like you’re remembering something for the last time, or hugging someone you love goodbye and you don’t know when you’re gonna see them again.” He had always retreated to it in the past because, despite how depressed it could make him, it gave him an inkling of love. He used to wonder if love felt like what smoking an echoflower cig made it seem like. It was mostly right. But now when he felt love, there was no sense of inevitable loss. 

“Why do you smoke it if it makes you feel sad?”

Rus shrugged. “It reminds me of how good I got it now.” He kissed Papyrus’s head for emphasis. His boyfriend hummed in contentment.

“Could I-“ Papyrus swallowed his words. Rus looked at him in curiosity, waiting patiently for his boyfriend to get out what wanted to say. “Can I try some?”

Rus was genuinely surprised by the question. Throughout their time together, Rus knew one thing for certain: his boyfriend was straight as an arrow when it came to rules. Smoking echoflower cigarettes certainly wasn’t illegal, but it was definitely taboo. One of the reasons Rus didn’t smoke them often anymore was because he didn’t want to be looked down upon by Papyrus or his friends. And yet here was his rule following boyfriend asking to break a societal expectation. 

He would be lying if the idea of “corrupting” Papyrus wasn’t slightly sexually arousing. But he was mostly worried. He didn’t want to overwhelm Papyrus with the sensation. The first time he smoked one of these joints, he was thirteen, and he cried from the sheer emotion that he wasn’t used to feeling. He didn’t want to accidentally break his boyfriend.

And then he had his idea. 

“Ya know what shotgunning is?” He asked. Papyrus flushed before nodding. “I’d rather try that first before lettin’ ya smoke it straight.” His boyfriend nodded enthusiastically, sitting up a bit. 

“However you think will work best. I am more than happy to follow your lead.”

Fuck, his eagerness would be the death of him. 

Rus kept his arm around Papyrus’s shoulders. He put the cig to his teeth, took as deep an inhale as he could without coughing, and then leant toward his boyfriend. Papyrus’s breathing was uneven before he opened his mouth. Rus pressed his mouth against Papyrus’s, and he exhaled all the smoke into him. Papyrus inhaled, taking the entirety of the vapor into him. His shoulders shuddered. 

Once all the smoke had left him, Rus pulled away. He watched Papyrus carefully. He was holding his breath and clenching his eye sockets closed. 

Rus chuckled. Papyrus was trying to do such a good job. He put his hand on his boyfriend’s cheek. Papyrus opened his sockets and looked into Rus’s. “You can breathe out, love.”

Papyrus did as told, letting all the smoke leave him in a big vapor cloud that filled the space between them. He let out a little cough, putting his hand on his chest. 

“How’d that feel?” He asked. Papyrus wiggled his tongue in his mouth. 

“Can we try that again?”

“Sure.”

Rus took another puff and let the smoke into Papyrus’s body with a kiss. He inhaled it, grabbing Rus’s sweatshirt in fistfuls. Rus pulled away, put his head on his boyfriend’s forehead and watched him gently let out the smoke. When he opened his sockets this time, his eye lights were a little hazy from the drug. “You feel it?” Rus asked. Papyrus nodded. 

“Again.”

“If you’re handlin’ it well, you could just smoke it.” Papyrus shook his head, a slight smile on his face. 

“No, I like doing it this way.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. 

They smoked his whole joint down this way. Rus would take a puff, kiss it into Papyrus, and then Papyrus would hold it for a few moments before letting it out and repeating. His fists tightly held onto Rus’s sweatshirt, leaving the fabric balled and creased. Halfway through they’d summoned their tongues, letting them meet and mingle as they passed the smoke between them. 

Rus had always smoked alone. This was the first time he was sharing. And he loved it. Mostly because he got to smoke and make out with his boyfriend at the same time. Could fault him for that?

They smoked until his cig burned down to his fingers. He had to flick it away before it burned his bones. But, even though he was done, Papyrus wasn’t. He tugged needily on his sweatshirt. 

“Again,” he practically begged. 

Rus started to feel a seed of worry in his soul. “We’re all done for tonight, love.” Papyrus shook his head, whispering for more. Rus also shook his head. “What are you feeling?” 

“It’s stupid.” It was barely a whisper. Rus cupped his cheek, making Papyrus look up at him.

“Nothing about you is stupid.” 

Papyrus clenched his teeth, steeling the nerve to speak. “I feel... I know you’re not going to leave.”

“I’m really not.”

“But... I feel like you are. And the only time I don’t feel that way is when we’re actually passing the smoke.” Rus nodded his head. This was a typical side effect of getting high off of echoflower fumes, and exactly why he’d been worried about letting Papyrus try it.

“I think I can soothe your woes without getting you further under the influence.” 

Papyrus raised his brows, eager for the solution. 

Rus took his boyfriend’s skull into his hands, angled and craned his neck, and kissed him. Without the need to pass anything between them, he was able to breathe as they kissed, letting his tongue thoroughly explore Papyrus’s mouth. His boyfriend gasped into it before pulling Rus closer. He pulled him and pulled him until they were laying on the couch, Rus resting on top of Papyrus as they kissed. 

He let it last as he savored the connection before pulling away. Now when Papyrus opened his eyes, his eye lights were foggy because of Rus, not just the drugs. 

“Feel better?” He asked.

Papyrus nodded, hummed, and then pulled Rus onto him again. He could feel the tears of relief run down his cheekbones. He wiped them away with his thumbs. He was growing more and more grateful for not letting Papyrus smoke a joint straight himself. Getting a diluted dose had left him in a crying melancholic mood. With a full dose he may have been a complete basket case. 

They kissed until Papyrus’s tears dried and Rus’s fingers went numb. 

Only then did they go back to the apartment, make themselves some hot tea, and curl up on their indoor couch in their pajamas and blankets, whispering sweet, loving nothings to each other into the night.

The next day he threw away his cigarettes. 

He really didn’t need them anymore.


	20. Day 20: Sex Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Sex Work, Disguises  
Pairing: FellCest (Accidental and Consensual)
> 
> Edge is trying to cope with his ethically compromising feelings, and finds himself hiring an escort with an uncanny resemblance to his brother.

Edge had needs. He wasn’t good at socializing and was therefore bad at naturally having his needs met. So, despite his shame and discomfort, he found himself going to brothels on a regular basis. 

It hadn’t started out that way! At first, he was casually soliciting. Paying for a hand job from the woman on the street. Getting his dick sucked by a stranger through a glory hole in a public library’s bathroom. Having a strange man come to his house when Red was gone for the night. 

It had been sporadic. Sloppy. He craved routine. 

He found Muffet’s. Not his Muffet, but one from a far nastier Universe (if that was even possible). She ran a brothel full of monsters. He appreciated that. He found humans far too curious about his body. Monsters didn’t need to be lectured as they got him off. Muffet’s was the place to get his release. 

He tried a different monster every time he went. He had a bunny, a squid, an elemental, even a ghost. And then, one day when he was scrolling through her catalogue of escorts, he saw a picture of a skeleton monster. Her magic was red and she had a full ecto body summoned, wearing black lingerie to show off how voluptuous she was. She had a big red bow tied around her forehead and excessive amounts of makeup. Strange. He had never seen a skeleton wear make-up before. He had to admit, it was very flattering on her. 

But the best part was her resemblance. When he squinted his eyes and removed the ecto flesh, she looked a bit like his brother. 

His brother, the cause of his needs. His shameful attraction to him is what spurred him to find satisfaction elsewhere. Whenever Edge felt attracted to his brother, he blamed it on his horniness. So, he did his best to satiate himself in hope that it would decrease his apparent attraction to his brother 

But every time he got his dick sucked or made out with a bunny, the fire for his brother burned deeper in his soul. It hurt. He knew it was wrong. He was the great and terrible Papyrus, he could not be capable of such an obscene ethical wrongdoing. That didn’t stop his need to stare at his brother’s bones as he got changed, or to sniff his clothes before putting them in the wash. 

It was shameful. And he was going to bury all of his shame in this red skeleton stranger. 

He put his finger on her picture. “Can I have two hours with her?”

“Oh, Cherry. She’s one of our newer recruits, not as seasoned as you usually like.”

“I’ll be a good early experience for her,” he said, unable to hold back his smile. Muffet looked him up and down, scrutinizing him and weighing her options. 

“One-fifty an hour.”

“Done.” Edge pulled his envelope out. It was worried thing, the paper feeling more like cloth, and filled with a secret stash of money that he had been hording for a rainy day. Apparently, his rainy day was feeling horny for his brother and wanting to drown his shame. He pulled three-hundred out and handed it to the spider. She counted it carefully, three times with three separate hands. She nodded before pointing to the right. 

“Up the stairs, room three. Her name will be on the door.”

“Thank you.” He pocketed his envelope and he made his way through the halls. He could hear sounds of love making – or fighting – behind every door he passed. He made his way up the stairs and eagerly looked for his stop. 

“Cherry” was carved into a metal placard and painted magenta. It was glittery. It reminded him of Barbie. He wondered how it would smell inside. He knocked on the door, knowing the policy to not enter unannounced. He didn’t hear the steps coming to the door, but he heard the door unlock before it swung open. 

“Welcome home.” The voice was overly feminine, like it was trying to compensate for something. What, Edge didn’t know. The rug was a pink shag. The walls a pink velvet. There was a king-sized bed against the wall covered in fuzzy pink pillows and a dark red duvet. Even the curtains in front of the window were pink. 

It was positively atrocious. 

The door closed behind him. He spun in his spot to see the monster that sensually leant against the door, locking it with one hand. 

Cherry was just as gorgeous as her picture. Her ecto body was from her calves to her shoulders, a big butt and big boobs that obscured her bones. Her lingerie wasn’t quite like the picture. She wore a pink bra, thong, and a big see-through robe that had fluff on the hems. Her bow was in place and she looked down to the side, showing her made up face in profile. She lifted her face to meet Edge’s as she spoke. Her eyeshadow was red and so was her lipstick. Clearly there was a theme. 

“I was getting so lonely, I didn’t think you’d ever –“ She finally looked him in the eye. And when she did, she froze, her sockets cinching and her face flushing red under the white foundation. Here he was thinking his appearance wouldn’t matter. 

“I bet it’s not every day that you have a skeleton knocking on your door.” 

She shook her head. “It... It’s not that, uh...” Her gaze flitted around the room, looking anywhere but at Edge. Finally, she put her hand on the door knob. “Are you sure you have the right room?”

“Are you not Miss Cherry?”

She practically groaned before smiling in a sickeningly sweet manner. “That’s me.” She clasped her hands together in apology. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can service you. I’m sure there’s going to be another monster here that would be happy to pleasure you.” 

That was not the reaction he expected. 

“May I ask why you won’t service me?”

“I... uh...” Cherry blushed harder before her eyes lit up. “I have the right to refuse! Yes! It’s policy! I have the right to refuse service for any reason I deem fit! And I have no obligation to disclose said reason! Ha!” She pointed her finger in success. Then she realized the silliness of her gesture and put her hand behind her back. “So, I’m sorry, sir.”

Edge had never felt insufficient before. Cherry’s rejection hurt him more than he wanted to admit. She was just a prostitute, an escort of a brothel. She slept with whoever paid. And she was denying him for, seemingly, no other reason than his appearance. 

He couldn’t settle for that.

Edge closed the space between them quickly, taking her hands in his before she had the chance to open or unlock the door. “Cherry, I’m sure you know how easy it is for monsters like us to feel objectified.” She looked down at their joined hands. “I thought you would understand. That you would see me as more than my species. And I thought I could do the same for you. I’d still like to, if you’ll let me.”

She kept her gaze down. “I... I definitely see you as more than your species, I just...”

“Perhaps I could convince you? If you’ll just give me a chance.”

Cherry flitted her eye lights up at him before bringing them back down. “O-One chance.”

“That’s all I ask,” Edge purred, glad that he had been given a chance. He held her hands and guided her to the bed. He sat and pulled her up on his lap. “Just kiss me. If that doesn’t change your mind, then I’ll go.”

Cherry nodded. She held Edge’s shoulders. Her breath was nervous. Edge leant up and pressed his teeth gently against hers. She was stiff, robotic. Edge cupped her cheeks, stroking them and soothing her nerves with rotations of his thumbs. To his surprise, she opened first, asking him for permission with a gentle lick of her tongue. Edge granted her access. He was timid, not wanting to scare her away. He gently stroked her tongue. She shuddered on top him, the tension starting to leave her. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him half-heartedly.

That was certainly better than how she started. 

He put his hands on her hips and back, feeling the squish of her flesh. It gave just perfectly under his touch. “Do... Do you want to touch me?” She asked. Edge nodded. She took one of his large hands in both of hers and slipped it under her robe and bra. Edge gently squeezed her and she leant her head back, holding back a moan. 

He wanted to make her feel so good that she couldn’t hold anything back. He fondled and stroked her, brushing a thumb over her nipple as she dried humped against his skinny jeans. “Do I pass?” He asked out of sheer curiosity. 

“Shut up.” She pushed him by his collar bones, pressing him down onto the bed. “Don’t talk, don’t talk, just let me do my job.” She gave him a smile one of her sharp teeth was slightly yellow, like it didn’t get brushed with the rest. Edge was finally getting what he wanted, so he couldn’t really argue or let himself get hung up with her personal dental health. 

She fumbled with his belt and opened his fly before shoving her hand in his pants. Edge leant his head back, clenching his sockets and his teeth to keep quiet as she had asked. It was hard to control anything when her fingers were playing with his magic. They swirled in him, forming the magic to summon what she wanted. She spat on her hand and gripped his shaft, stroking up and down, lubing it up before she moved her underwear to the side and slid onto him. 

She felt heavenly. Tight and wet and impossibly warm. 

With his eyes closed, he could imagine Cherry to be who he wanted. Who he craved and dreamed of and knew he could never have. 

He wanted to know what Red felt like. He wanted to know if he would ride him like this. If he would stroke him fast and then grind on him. If he’d summon an ecto body like this, with breasts and a butt, or if he’d go bare bones. He deigned to peak at her as she moved. Her face was flushed and her mouth was agape as she rode him. Again, completely silently. The only sound in the room was the springs on the bed and the occasional squelch of their parts. While she felt amazing, she was taking her good sweet time. 

Edge didn’t have time for good or sweet. He was getting ridden and imagining she was his brother. He was dirty, filthy, positively gross. And he wanted to have sex that matched his true nature.

He sat up, took Cherry’s shoulders in his hands, and flipped them. She sprawled on the bed, her breasts rolling to the sides. “What are you – hah!” He thrusted into her, setting a rapid pace. Her ecto-flesh bounced and jiggled with the movement of his hips, her slight tum moving with everything else in a positively delectable way. She put her hands on his shoulders, but he took them and held them beside her head. She was pinned, and now she was making sounds.

They varied from high squeaks to low gravelly moans that sounded wrong coming from a lady’s mouth. She wrapped her ankles around his hips holding on tight, her tongue lolling out and wettening her teeth. 

The slightly yellow tooth was getting wet, her tongue rubbing on it more and more until the slight yellow revealed itself to be a shiny gold.

He nearly froze. He knew that tooth anywhere. Cherry noticed his stop in movement and blinked until her senses came to her. “Wha – What? Why’d you stop?” She looked down at him. 

“You have a gold tooth,” he stated, matter-of-factly. Her face flushed again. “I... I don’t know many skeleton monsters. But I only know of one that has a gold tooth.” His soul was palpitating. The weight of what he was doing fell on his back. He, at this very moment, could have his cock in his brother’s cunt. And the sickest part was, he would’ve been happy about it. He hoped Cherry would admit to having a different identity. And he prayed that she was who she said. That he wasn’t doing what he really wanted to, that she was really just a stranger. It would keep things simple. Nothing would change. 

“D-Don’t say anything.” Her voice came out lower now. It wasn’t strained to be higher than it was meant to be. It wasn’t girly or falsettoed or feminine in anyway. It was low and gravelly and Edge immediately recognized it as his brother’s. “Don’t say anything.”

“S-Sans-“

“D o n ‘ t .” It was a command and a plead and purely desperate. 

Edge was getting what he always fantasized. The least he could do was grant his brother’s wish. 

“Sorry, Cherry. You just reminded me of someone for a brief moment.”

A tear rolled down to the covers as Red spoke, his voice returning to the falsetto. “I get that a lot.”

“Do you... Can we continue?” he asked. Red nodded, eyes closed.

He was slower now, savoring the moment. What he had wanted and dreamt of and wished for had come to pass. He didn’t know if it would ever be this way again – if they’d ever do this again... so he made the most of it. He rocked and rolled. Red moaned in that high voice again, still trying to maintain some sort of facade. But it was just for the strangers that heard them from the hall. Edge knew who he was fucking. And that knowledge made him come harder than he could ever recall.

And he still had an hour and a half to go. He waited for a cue from his brother. A notion for him to leave or continue.

The response he got was “Cherry” taking Edge’s cock in his mouth. 

He recognized the feeling of the tongue, patterns and ministrations and sucklings from a previous sexual endeavor. 

They played for the duration of the two hours. Edge collected himself without a word, but “Cherry” said to him before he left, “Come back anytime.” 

He went home. A few hours later, his brother came home from work. They didn’t speak a word about what they’d done. Red lied about how many hot dogs he sold. Edge lied about the books he read. 

He found two hundred dollars under his pillow that night. He knew exactly what he was going to spend it on again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part in a trilogy about the Underfell Bros. The first part is Ch. 18. It will be concluded in Ch. 28.


	21. Day 21: Size Difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Size Difference, Overstimulation, Excessive stretching and Literal Big Dick Energy  
Pairing: Kustard (Bara Sans)
> 
> An experiment goes haywire and the two skeletons evaluate the strange results.

Red loved Sans, he really did. He wouldn’t change anything about him for the world – except maybe his stats. And that was entirely for selfish reasons. See, Red felt vulnerable with six HP. Sans only had one. And Red couldn’t help but worry about him on a daily basis. 

So, he suggested they try to raise his stats. Sans was initially horrified, naturally. Ordinarily, the only way to raise stats was to fight and kill other monsters, which Sans was not interested in doing. Then Red introduced his theory. They were two of the smartest skeletons from any underground. Surely they could come up with a machine that could raise his constitution to a point that would make Red not worry every time his boyfriend stayed out late. 

So they worked on a machine that was meant to enhance a monsters stats. When they got it working, Sans sauntered in with goggles over his sockets. “We gotta test it on somethin’ before we huck you in,” Red said. Sans just shrugged. He was small in the large container they had built.

“Worst case scenario it doesn’t work.”

“Worst case scenario ya dust.”

“It’ll take more than a machine we built in our garage to dust me. Survived worse from Gaster, so this’ll be a cinch.” He grabbed the edge of the door and tried to pull it shut. Red stopped it. “Babe, this is what ya wanted.”

Red knew that, it didn’t make the gravity of the situation any less horrifying. It was a machine built to enhance and nurture, but something could still go wrong. 

“We built this together,” Sans said. “It’s not gonna fail.”

“You cocky bastard.”

“I just know I’m in good hands.” His eye lights were stable and strong, sure in his decision. Red shuddered in frustration before leaning forward and pressing an urgent kiss to his teeth. Sans actually chuckled against him before pushing him away. “We can kiss more when I’m all beefed up.”

Red nodded. “See ya on the other side.” He closed his boyfriend in behind the steel door. He went to the control pad and turned on the monitor. An image of Sans’s soul appeared on the screen along with his present stats. He turned dials and flipped switches. The machine thrummed to life, the fans inside whirring. 

Then their craftsmanship started to bust. The metal panels on the outside of the cage were shaking, the screws coming undone. Red tried to swallow his panic. The console started heating. A dial popped off and flew across the room. 

And then he heard the muffled scream from inside the machine. 

His soul spiked with adrenaline and panic. He turned the machine off on the console, but it kept whirring. “Shit shit shit!” He fumbled and touched everything he could, hitting every fail safe in an attempt to make the machine off. The monitor staticked out and Sans screamed. 

“NO!” 

He ran to the door, all sense leaving him as he yanked on it, pulling and falling to the ground when it didn’t give. He crawled behind the machine, between it and the wall. The air was hot and the metal of the machine singed his parka as he wiggled through, reached the plug in the wall socket, and yanked it out. 

Finally, the sounds of the machine whirred into silence. The jangling of the screws stopped and the metal cooled beside him. He frantically wriggled out and made it back to the door. He pounded on it. “Sans! Sans, you okay?” He pulled on the door again. It was a little sticky, but it gave shortly. It opened and sent out a billow of black smoke. Red waved the air in front of him, trying not to cough as he peered inside. “Sans?”

The voice that came out to meet him was low. It still sounded like his boyfriend, but nearly an octave below his normal tone. “’M okay, just... just need a minute.” He couldn’t see his boyfriend inside the smoke-filled machine, but he did notice the white hand that grabbed the door frame.

It was huge. 

Red took a step back as he watched his boyfriend emerge. His knee came halfway up the door. His head knocked against the top of the door frame and he stood. His clothes were mostly burned and torn, only the remnants of his shirt and sweatshirt still on, his shorts tight to his femurs, and his slippers completely destroyed. He pulled the goggles off. Their frames had broken and the band left a mark around his larger skull. He was wobbly at first, holding his head and getting his bearings. Red was borderline horrified. And when Sans looked at him, he just seemed confused. “You... You’re really small.” He easily reached the height of the machine. Red only came up to his thigh. 

“Are you okay?” Red asked. Sans dropped the goggles and started patting himself, feeling his bones and checking for damage. Red checked him immediately to find his stats unchanged. He was relieved no damage had been done, so much so that he almost didn’t care that the experiment hadn’t worked. 

He walked forward and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s legs. It hadn’t worked. It had some unintended side effects that neither of them could have predicted. But he was okay. Sans was fine and there was no harm done. Two large hands came down, grabbed him under his armpits, and picked him up. Sans held him against his chest, allowing Red to wrap his arms around his neck as he hugged him tightly back. Sans breathed him in. “We’re okay.”

“I was worried bout ya,” Red mumbled. Sans nuzzled him, kissing his cheek. 

“I was so scared somethin’ bad would happen.” Red pulled away to look at him incredulously.

“You said you knew you’d be fine!”

“I was lyin’ through my teeth.” He offered a lop-sided smile. Red looked at his boyfriend. Really looked at him. He was still intrinsically Sans. He could feel the familiar magic and would know those expressions anywhere. But his head was bigger, taller. His cheekbones actually jutted out from his skull and his smile was taller, almost matching its width. 

He thought Sans was attractive before, adorable and cute. Now he was ruggedly handsome, his looks so gorgeous that Red blushed. Sans chuckled, the quake shaking them both. “What?”

“Ya never looked cuter, babe.” Sans’s big hand cupped the entire side or Red’s head. His bones were warm. He leant into it. 

“Ya don’t look too half bad yourself.” 

“Would ya say I’m all beefed up?” He asked. Red looked down, noticing the distance between his butt and the ground, and the size of the hand that cradled his pelvis. 

“Just a bit,” he said. Sans leant forward, his smile wide. 

“So, can we kiss more? I promised we would.” Red couldn’t stop the pulse in his soul or the flush that burned his cheeks again. He cupped his boyfriend’s enlarged skull. His hands barely matched the height of the new smile. 

“And you always keep your promises.”

“You know it.” Red leant forward. He was nervous and excited to see what this new version of Sans could do. The kiss was gentle and probing at first. They both hesitated, waiting for the other to do something new, to ask to go forward. Red was trembling in Sans’s arms when he finally decided to intitiate something. He opened his mouth and gently pressed his tongue against his boyfriend. Sans’s bones rattled. Red wondered if he would let him in. 

The tongue that came to meet his was practically foreign. It was massive, it’s magic pulsated hypnotically, and Sans breathed into Red once they connected. He curled over Red, his hold on him making them mold and bend together. Sans was so big, he could easily manipulate the smaller skeleton to be in any position he wanted, any angle to get any vantage. 

The idea excited Red, making his bones thrum and hum around his soul. Sans broke the kiss to smile against his teeth. “I, uh... Seems to me like ya want to do more than just kiss, amiright?” 

Red nodded against him, pressing another kiss against his teeth. “I think I do.”

“I don’t trust myself to ‘port.” Sans stroked his pointer finger against Red’s skull. “But, uh, I’d like to take us somewhere more comfortable.”

“I gotcha covered, sweetheart,” Red purred. He had never teleported someone as large as Sans before. It was straining to stretch his magic over himself and his boyfriend before he pulled them through the void. He was heavier too, making Red sweat with the effort of pulling them up two floors in a different dimension. He only knew they’d come through to the bedroom when his boyfriend’s weight bounced on the bed. “Fuck, that used to be easier,” he gasped. Sans chuckled, laying back on the bed so Red was laying on his massive rib cage. 

“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll take it from here.” Sans rolled them over, pushing Red against the pillows. He caressed his cheek with a thumb, cherishing the moment before kissing him. Red wrapped his arms around Sans’s neck, the grip strong so he followed Sans’s head with every movement. Hs kissed him, suckled on his tongue gently. One of his hands rested on Red’s sternum, easily pressing the whole surface. He unzipped Red’s coat and put his hand up his shirt. 

It was so warm. It wasn’t the temperature that made him gasp, but the blanket effect. What was normally a hot touch here and there was now a burning all covering force that heated all of his ribs at once. Sans smiled against him. “You’re so small.”

“Think you’re just fuckin’ huge.” 

Sans’s chuckle shook them both, moving Red’s marrow like a disturbance in water. The large hand moved down. His hand grasped the entirety of his exposed spine, no movement needed to warm his core. Red spread his legs, overwhelmed by the heat and desperate for something cool. “Can ya strip for me, babe?” 

Red nodded. Sans gave him the space to sit up and shuck off his coat, shirt and shorts. Sans’s clothes were already destroyed, and he easily tore the rest of the fabric off. Red couldn’t help but stare at the diagonal scar on the center of his sternum that had grown with the rest of him. His pelvis was glowing blue, a pool of magic resting in the cradle having not decided what form it would take. Sans wasn’t focusing on himself. Instead, he looked at Red with hungry eye lights. 

Red felt vulnerable when Sans looked to him. He put his hand on his chest again and he could see the size difference along with feel it. Sans put a hand on his pelvis, touching and spurring Red’s magic. “I –“ The massive skeleton swallowed. “Could ya... er...”

“Tell me what ya want, sweetheart.” Sans’s face flushed blue, the words still unspoken and swirling in his head. “Just say it.”

“I wanna take you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

Sans shook his head. “Can I... It’ll be bigger than normal, so... can I still, uh... fuck.” He was nervous and uncomfortable, but Red could connect the dots. His face grew, his scar grew, his bones, his hands. It only made sense that his dick would grow, too. And with Red being so small in comparison...

“Summon it first?”

Sans nodded. That was fair. Let him make a decision once he knew what he was agreeing to. He lay under Sans and watched his massive hand pull and sculpt at his magic. Sure enough, the ecto-flesh that formed turned into something that was easily a foot long. It was girthy and bulbous and oh so familiar. But now, the cock had fleshy hooks on the underside. The dick may have been too wide to fit into Red’s pelvic cradle, let alone his pussy. 

But that logic didn’t mean anything. Red’s marrow boiled in excitement, the surface of his bones honing and bracing for more sensations, and his undefined magic forming itself into what he needed just at the sight of the blue shaft. 

He was scared and almost painfully aroused. “I... I want to feel that.”

Sans shuddered in excitement, his eye lights flashing. “You sure?”

Red nodded, his sockets not leaving the blue glowing magic. It was a challenge that he was hungry to beat. 

Sans slipped a hand behind Red’s back, lifting him easily and cradling him to his chest. He moved them both, turning to sit against the headboard. He still held Red to him. The smaller skeleton could feel the heat of his member from behind his back. “We still have time to play before the big event.”

Red nodded, the thought relaxing him. He adjusted himself against Sans, sitting straight and putting his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders before kissing him again. They dove right into a deep kiss, embracing closely and passionately. Sans’s large fingers started to play with Red’s formed pussy, brushing against the lips before caressing the rim. It was too large to just insert for stretching purposes, so he was starting small. Red joined him in an attempt to get him ready faster, using two of his fingers to scissor himself, stretching the tissue farther than what he was used to. 

When he was satisfied, he put his hand around the massive finger and guided it in. It filled him wholly and immediately as it pushed a moan from his core and up out of his mouth. The heat of the finger soothed him even as it wiggled and spun, moving the flesh slowly and gently, stretching it as best it could. When it was loose enough, Red slipped his fingers in with Sans’s. It was a half-step, a baby stretch to prepare for the next insertion. 

In time Sans inserted another finger, and then finally another. His three fingers alone stretched Red further than he’d ever gone before, and it felt amazing. He was already seeing stars, breathing heavily, fighting back cramps and spasms, and he was just getting prepared. The whole process through, Sans had been kissing his neck, licking the space between the vertebrae and offering small words of encouragement. 

“Feel ready?” he hummed against him. Red blinked himself to focus on the skeleton before him. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. “Okay. Imma help you, yeah, babe?”

Red nodded again. He let Sans slip his fingers out, allowing him to breathe and take a breathe. It was a moment of relaxation. Sans kissed him again. Red drunkenly kissed back before pulling away and nodding. “”M good. Let’s do it.” Sans nodded. He pried Red off of him before holding him over his length. Red put his feet down, balancing on each side of Sans’s pelvis. The larger skeleton still held him up and helped Red lower himself down. The heat got closer and closer until he felt the head of the cock kiss his lips.

He hummed, his breath already shaking. He bent his knees in an attempt to put himself down lower, but his weight wasn’t enough to make any leeway. Sans helped, gently pushing Red down onto him. 

The initial entry made him scream silently, the stretch already feeling excessive. “Do you wanna stop?” Red shook his head. It hurt, but it felt amazing. His nerves were on fire. And, he had to admit, he loved the feeling of the fingers inside him. This would just be that but even more intense. And he was ready for it. “Kay, then.”

He pushed him down more. Red bit his knuckles, his teeth squeezing the immovable bone uncomfortably. But it was a much-needed little distraction from the cock that was now a head deep in him. It twitched in his magic. His boyfriend took a steadied breath. “Oh, oh fuck. You’re so tight.”

“Only c-cause yer a b-hig d-dick.” It was the first thing he said. He had been scared to speak. But now, he was so desperate for any distraction that he was willing to make banter when his pelvis was full and only a fifth of the way through. 

Sans pushed him down just a little more. His magic was filling him up, red ecto-flesh stretching like a sock over the large cock. As he took more and more and more, the cock started reaching up, stretching past each vertebrae like a ruler, moving past his floating ribs. Red was blinded by pain and overwhelming pleasure. He could feel the cock moving deeper and deeper, past where it should have ever been able to go. Finally, he felt the covered cock touch the bottom point of his soul. “Ah-haaaagh!” 

“You did it. You did it babe. Ya fucking got me all. And ya feel so good. You’re so good, you did so fuckin’ well.” Sans leant forward to kiss his boyfriend. He was nothing more than a drunken prop. He couldn’t be of any use. He could practically feel Sans’s cock in his throat. “Babe? Ya with me? Ya good?”

Red’s knees spasmed, his toes cramping as he moved his hands to hold onto some of his boyfriend’s thick bones. He didn’t know what part he ended up grabbing, something in front of him. He gave them a squeeze before smiling. “I got ya all?”

“You did. You’re fuckin’ full of me.”

He gasped in relief. “That was easy.” Sans laughed, tucking his head in Red’s neck. He turned into it, lazily kissing the side of his head. “You gonna move? Or do I have to do that part for ya?”

“You’ll let me?”

“I didn’t take it all just ta sit on it,” he said, lazily rolling his head on his shoulders. “Jus’ be gentle, sweetheart.”

He felt the nod. Sans kissed his temple again before lifting Red slightly and ever so delicately up. Red moaned at the ease, his magic regaining some of its form as less of the cock was in him. He could breathe again. But a moment later Sans moved him back down, his own magic kissing his soul because of the dick inside him. 

And the process repeated, down and up, empty and full, relaxed and strained. Every full insertion touched his soul, setting his bones on fire, all of his nerves tight and desperate for more. Sans kept his bones entertained, kissing and licking his shoulders and ribs as he grunted and groaned. He was clearly enjoying it. And that made Red feel beyond his senses, recognize his rationale and feel proud of what he was providing his lover. 

The pull and push was slow at first, careful and loving. Sans moved him a little faster. Then a little more and a little more. Red’s mouth hung open, his tongue lolling to the side, his mind being reduced to nothing more than feelings and senses. Sans hugged him close as he moved.

Red didn’t know how long they’d been moving before Sans inevitably came. His cum pushed the sock of Red’s magic ever further, making it bounce against and surround his soul for a brief moment. He shuddered around Red, his cock twitching from the release before, finally, he lifted Red off of him. “Awhaaaaah,” he moaned, feeling his expanded magic shrink back to its normal form, the massive blue member slipping out of him until he was finally off of it. The cum was dripping out of him as Sans leant back and held Red against his chest. 

He was exhausted and over extended and gladly took refuge in curling against his lover. “Babe?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Hm.” He nuzzled against the big bones, grabbing his boyfriend’s ribs in his weak grip. 

“You did so well.” He closed his sockets and tried to tuck his legs, but they were numb and tingling from what he had just done. They felt stiff and weak, like they belonged to a puppet instead of him. “Thank you for trying that. That was so good. You did so good for me.” Red felt a kiss press to his forehead. “Lemme make it up to you.”

He felt a finger reach down to his magic. Red shook his head, making one of his useless hands push the big hand back. “No, nah now. Too tired.” He tried to open his sockets, looking up at his familiar and strange-looking boyfriend. Sans was still flush from his orgasm. And, even with his vision blurred from the overstimulation, Red could still see the handsome new angles, and the love in the same old eye lights. “You can jus’ owe me.”

Sans smiled and pressed his forehead against Red’s. “Gladly.” His soul pulsed with purpose, definitive and comforting, sending magic out of to soothe and calm Red. It worked as well as a lullaby and Red fell to sleep, content with the pleasure he’d given to the person he loved. 

The experiment hadn’t been a total failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entry has a sequel on Day 29, with more Kustard and more size differences.


	22. Day 22: Crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Crying (and comfort)  
Pairing: MapleBlossom
> 
> Papyrus has a bad day and Rus does everything he can to make it better.

Rus couldn’t help but notice how quiet Papyrus was. He often kept his volume under control around Rus – loud noises made him jumpy – but this was excessive. His only greeting when they met at the end of the day was a small and shallow kiss. He still smiled, but it was a fraction of its normal size. 

He excused himself, saying he still had some papers to grade. He went to the bedroom and closed the door behind him. 

That was fine. Everyone needed alone time. Rus just got on with the afternoon. He wrote for a little while before starting dinner. He spiced the food in an attempt to make the aroma alluring enough to draw Papyrus out and keep him company in the kitchen. He finished cooking and plated the food, putting it all on the table. Papyrus had been home for three hours and he hadn’t said more than a dozen words to Rus. 

Rus didn’t need to be ever present. He didn’t need to get entangled in all of his boyfriend’s affairs and emotions, only the ones Papyrus wanted to share with him. He desperately wanted to just leave Papyrus in his room to continue doing... whatever he needed to do. 

But there was a gnawing worry ever growing in his soul that pulled him to the bedroom door and made him knock. “Dinner’s ready, love.” He stepped back, waiting for the door to open. 

It didn’t. 

It was his bedroom, too. That’s what he told himself to expunge him of any guilt for intruding on Papyrus during a private moment. 

His boyfriend was sitting on his side of the bed, feet resting firmly on the floor, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He didn’t seem to notice Rus’s entrance. “Uh, Papyrus?” 

He lifted his head and frantically started wiping his face. “Oh, I d-didn’t hear you knock.” He sniffed and wiped his nose before turning to Rus with that small exuberant smile. “I’ve, um... is d-dinner ready?”

“It is,” Rus said. 

“Wonderful! I-I’ll be out in just another minute.” He stood up. “Must wash up before we eat, after all.” He worried his hands and kept his face down as he walked toward the doorway. Rus didn’t move, obstructing his way out. “P-Pardon me.”

“Are you okay?” he asked. Papyrus’s sockets widened, as if he was surprised by the question. He stretched his smile, the falseness of it all becoming wildly apparent. 

“Of course, I’m okay! Why on earth wouldn’t I be?”

Rus shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you could tell me.” 

“W-Well, I would! Certainly I would. But there’s nothing to tell so I won’t – I mean can’t. Yes, I can’t tell cause there’s nothing to tell.” Rus kept his steady gaze on his boyfriend. It wasn’t intense or aggressive. Rather, it was more like a weighted blanket. Something the felt one way when it was put on initially and steadily got heavier and heavier, affecting the person below it. It would make him gently crack under his careful pressure. Papyrus sniffed. “I, uh, it was just a bad day. That’s all.” At least he had dropped the fake smile. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Rus asked. Papyrus shook his head. 

“Let’s just eat the lovely dinner you have prepared.”

Rus wasn’t really satisfied, but he was content enough with his response that he stepped out of the way. Papyrus went to the bathroom and immediately turned on the tap. Minutes later, he met Rus at the table. They ate in relative silence. Rus asked a probing question now and again, and Papyrus brushed it off. That’s how they made it through the dinner. It’s how they did the dishes. It was how they watched a little bit of TV and got ready for bed.

Rus sat under the covers as he watched Papyrus crawl in. He curled and leaned over to the edge of the bed, making distance between them. 

That wouldn’t do. Rus shimmied under the covers, reached his arms out and snaked them around his boyfriend, pulling him close. Papyrus took a shuddering sigh, pressing his head into the pillow. “You’re okay,” Rus said. He didn’t really need any answers. He didn’t need details or assurances or explanations. He just needed Papyrus to be okay. He willed what he wanted to be true. “Bad days happen. It’s okay.” 

His boyfriend’s shoulders shook, tiny gasps racking his body. Rus kissed the back of his head. It hurt his soul in ways that he couldn’t describe to see Papyrus sad. He was such a strong monster, sweet and confident, compassionate and kind. He was such a towering figure of might and strength. But he felt so small now as he trembled in Rus’s grip. He gave his little spoon a little twist, easily maneuvering his weakened frame to face toward Rus. He held his back, rubbing his gently. Papyrus put his forehead on Rus’s soft pajamas, his tears soaking through the fabric. “Let it out, love.” Papyrus grabbed his shirt in fistfuls, pulling Rus even closer. “You’re okay.”

Papyrus whined, his two hands crawling up Rus’s chest to hold the sides of his skull. He looked up. His skull was tinted orange from crying, prominent streaks ran from his sockets down his cheekbones and to his chin. The crying had made his eye lights shine even brighter than usual. Like a wound, they were raw and vulnerable. Rus could feel the magic and heat coming off of him. 

And, to his surprise, Papyrus leant up and pulled Rus’s face down. 

The kiss was needy, pulling softly on Rus’s senses and feelings. He nearly pulled away, wondering if kissing was the appropriate thing to do in this situation. But, if Papyrus wanted to kiss, if that would make him feel better, then Rus would gladly oblige.

He cradled Papyrus, tilting his head and humming into it. His boyfriend’s tongue stuttered against his teeth before Rus granted him access. He kissed the tongue back, stroking it with his own and sucking it, pulling it deeper into his mouth. Papyrus whined, fresh tears running down his cheeks and landing on Rus’s thumbs. “Love, you’re still crying.”

“I know,” he gasped against him. “Just... Just keep kissing me.”

“Can do.” Papyrus felt up Rus’s bones through his shirt, tugging and grappling, pulling their bodies together. He felt the heat between them. It made his magic hunger in excitement. But he satiated it, focusing on giving Papyrus all of his conscious attention. His boyfriend was demanding it, pulling on his bones, trying to get Rus on top of him. He, again, hesitated. “Are you sure, love?”

“Mmhmm.” He pulled him on top, making Rus straddle Papyrus’s still shuddering body. He kissed him deeper, pulling Rus down against him. Rus tried to keep his balance despite his boyfriend eagerness. His tears made him desperate and shakey. Yanking and pulling and kissing, whining and gasping with every motion and ministration. “T-Touch me,” he begged. 

“I am touching you,” Rus said, flexing his fingers, feeling the curves of his skull and the divots between his ribs. Papyrus shook his head, his sockets clenching, more fresh tears running. 

“Not like th-that.” Papyrus took Rus’s hand in his and lowered it down to his crotch, boldly shoving it down his pants. Rus flinched. 

“Stars, Papyrus,” he murmured. 

“Make me see them,” he begged, arching his back to raise his magic into Rus’s hand. It was warm, barely formed. He gave the vague lips a few strokes, confirming its shape and finalizing the form. He gently stroked two fingers into the hole that had formed. Papyrus moaned, wrapping his arms around Rus’s neck, arching his head back against the pillow. 

He stretched his fingers, feeling the texture of the walls as he pressed them deeper. He was searching for that spot. He was well-versed in his boyfriend’s magical anatomy and found it easily. He tapped against it gently before giving it a rub. “Nyeh-haaa.” That sounded better than any of the sobbing from earlier. Rus tucked his head into Papyrus’s neck, breathing him in as he fingered him. His fingers were moistened by the magic, sliding back and forth easily as he put his thumb on the sensitive bundle of nerves. He could feel Papyrus’s legs tremble and twitch. “More, p-please.”

He kissed the side of his Papyrus’s head, slipping another finger inside. “Nnnn – ah, haaaa more.” Four fingers in, he spun them. His walls clenched tight, going in every crevice between his bones. 

Papyrus shook his head again. Now what did he need? He turned his face, his warm breath brushing against his skull. “Make me useful,” he begged. “Please. Let me help you. Let me do something for you.” 

“You don’t need to do anything for me,” he said. He kissed Papyrus, trying to soothe and assure him. His boyfriend shook his head, shaking out of the kiss. 

“No, no, please. I need... I need to feel useful, please.” The tears started coming on, stronger, shaking Papyrus, his voice choking in his throat. 

“Shh, okay, okay.” Rus cradled his boyfriend’s head in his neck, holding him through his shuddering. He took his hand out of Papyrus and put it in his own pelvis. Magic had gathered there, sure, but he hadn’t formed anything. It didn’t take long for him to give it a hint as to what shape he wanted. He formed it quicker than usual, not taking his usual time, so he could do what Papyrus wanted. He leant back, lining himself up, and then slid in. Papyrus moaned, arching and leaning, a smile spreading on his face. He wrapped his legs around Rus’s hips and held on tight, whispering against his skull again,

“Yes, thank you, yes.”

He felt so good around him. He didn’t usually take this position. He normally received. But now he knew why his boyfriend liked this part so much. His magic was so warm and tight around him, clamping and pulsing like a heartbeat, sending chills up his spine. “You feel so good.”

“Good, I – I’m so glad.” Papyrus smiled wider, his tears flowing without consternation. Rus pressed Papyrus’s back into the couch and slowly moved deeper in him. “Nnn – yes.” He pulled out and pushed in. His walls moved so smoothly around him, hugging and squeezing. Now Rus was the one who trembled. He was trying to maintain a steady rhythm, not let himself be too over eager. Papyrus was so fragile under him. He didn’t want to overstimulate and break him. “Yes, hmmm, yes.” The magic was milking him, tugging and pulling and asking for more. He responded in kind, pressing deeper and faster. The mattress creaked under them. Papyrus mewled with every thrust. His smile stretched ever farther. Rus dared to wonder if he was crying from happiness instead of whatever was troubling him earlier. 

He let himself go faster and faster, grunting against him, loving how Papyrus held onto him like he was his anchor to this plane of existence. It made him feel important. He was an anchor, a source of stability, crucial and valued and necessary. He was the only one able to make him feel better. And it was working. He was making him feel better. 

Papyrus clawed the back of his skull. “Yes, yes, mercy yes.”

He pushed and thrusted, feeling himself rise higher and higher. “Oh, oh shhh... I’m gonna...” He tried to hold himself back, keep his orgasm from hitting. Papyrus fondled his neck vertebrae, pulling himself up and whispering against his skull,

“Just come, flower.”

The permission let him release. He came inside Papyrus. He gasped, squeezing and holding him close. Papyrus kissed him lovingly through his release. 

Rus came out of his fog, pulling his head back to properly look down at Papyrus. His boyfriend was smiling, his sockets lidded from exhaustion. Rus returned the expression, although a bit more connivingly. While Papyrus was distracted, he brought a hand down and stimulated his clit ever so slightly. His boyfriend’s mouth opened with a silent scream, his walls clenching and frantically spasming around Rus. He moaned. Ecstasy washed over Papyrus’s face until he gained his sensibilities again. Rus held Papyrus’s face, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Wa-Was I-“

“You were very useful.”

Papyrus smiled blissfully. Rus pulled out and fixed both of their pants before lying beside his boyfriend again, holding him close. He had finally stopped crying as he nestled into Rus’s chest. 

He still wasn’t sure what had been bothering him. But he didn’t think it really mattered now. Papyrus had stopped crying and was falling into a restful sleep. 

Tomorrow, Rus would ask about being a top again. Minus the crying and begging.


	23. Day 23: Collaring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Collaring  
Pairing: Kustard
> 
> Red gives Sans a very important gift. CW: allusion to minions, read at your own risk.

Sans got a text earlier that day from his boyfriend with simple instructions: to wear something special that night. 

A vicious idea cracked in his skull. He immediately went to good will, knowing the perfect sort of thing to look for. He bought a pair of overalls, a used yellow shirt, and a silly pair of goggles. He hurried home, dressed, and waited for Red to get back. He was in the kitchen, heating up a quiche in the oven, when the front door clicked open. “Sweetheart, ‘m home.” 

Sans excitedly turned, draping himself against the counter and adjusting the goggles to rest on his skull in the cringiest way. “In the kitchen!” Red took his time, fuddling around with something before finally coming in the entryway, his hands behind his back.

He was wearing a partial suit. Black slacks, tucked in white shirt, a red satin vest, and a tie. Most notably though was the collar absent from his neck – the red studded leather was nowhere to be seen. 

Red looked him up and down. “Why the fuck are you dressed like a minion?”

Sans stood straight, shifting on his feet, suddenly doubting his choice in wardrobe. “You said to wear somethin’ special.” He gestured to his outfit. “And it’s one in a minion so-“

“Oh my god.” Red slapped his forehead, seemingly exasperated, but he couldn’t hold back the smile. “I mean, overall I disagree, but I see what you jean.” Sans immediately relaxed, glad that his outfit hadn’t completely jacked Red’s swag. “I hadn’t planned on doin’ this with you lookin’ so... ridiculous.”

“Doing what?” Red took a few steps forward, his hands still hidden behind his back and his gaze down, that slight red blush dusting his cheeks. 

“I want to take us to the next level.”

Sans feigned a gasp. “Next level? You mean... You mean like butt stuff?”

“Would ya knock it off?” Red laughed, flashing that golden toothed smile. Sans thought it over before snapping his finger in acknowledgement. 

“You’re right, we’ve already done that.”

“Sans!”

“Sorry.” He couldn’t not smile. Red was so cute when he blushed like this, frazzled with a plan that wasn’t going how he wanted. It was Sans’s pleasure to keep him on his toes. 

“Can you please be serious? For like five minutes. Please? That’s all I ask.” He was being so incredibly genuine. Red was usually full of so much shit that Sans could smell it. But now he was clean as a whistle, his eye lights flickering like stars. 

“Fine,” Sans agreed. He stood straight, facing his boyfriend with all the seriousness he could muster while being dressed like a minion. “What next level?”

Red took a breath before putting his hands in front of him, presenting a velvet lined case. Sans would have thought it was a ring, but the case was too big, a large flat square the size of his hand. “This is for you.”

Sans carefully took the case in his hands. “What is it?” Red just nodded to it. Sans supposed he’d have to find out. He snapped the case open. On a soft silk pad was a collar. It was blue leather with two rows of tiny metal studs. Towards the front of it was an imbedded metal plate with an upside-down heart carved in it.

It was a good collar, and he guessed it was cute, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do with it. “... Are we getting a dog?” Red sighed. “Cause, I’m not against it, I just think we gotta have a talk about names first.”

“It’s not for a dog.” Red took the case back, lifting the collar out. He put the case on the counter. “It’s for you.” He held it out to him again. Sans didn’t take it as quickly as he probably should have. “What?”

“I... I’m not... It’s not really my thing,” Sans said. His boyfriend smiled understandingly. Least he wasn’t trying to pressure him too much. “You could wear it, though. Did you, uh, lose yours?”

“Nah, Boss and I just had a talk, decided I don’t gotta wear it anymore.”

“How’d ya figure that?”

“It was sort of a ‘back-off’ sign. Back in our underground, it was monster eat monster. The only shred of hope ya had to protect yourself was gettin’ claimed by someone. I was easy pickins with my low stats, so Boss got me a collar to show other monsters that someone cared about me. And if I got dusted, there’d be hell to pay.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Sans wonder how he felt not wearing it. Was it like having a phantom limb? Did he feel like he was still wearing it? “Collars down there were a symbol that someone loved ya – or as close to love as any o’ us could feel. And most couples were given to someone by their mate. Boss an’ I didn’t have anyone else, so we were a collared pair.” He smiled wide. “Now ‘e’s got Stretch, and I got you, we figure it’s time we follow the rules.”

Sans was starting to understand, but he still shook his head. “Ya don’t gotta do that kind of stuff up here, babe. It’s not a fight for your life every day.”

Red shrugged. “I know, but, it’d still mean a lot to me, ya know? It was a shitty world to grow up in, but it’s still my world. And I want ya to be a part of it, sweetheart.”

Oh, that nickname. Oh, that look in his sockets. Was he doing this on purpose to get a specific reaction, or was he just being this inadvertently genuine? Sans’s soul pounded in his rib cage at the attention and the sentiment. “I mean, so long as we’re not dusting anybody, I’d love to take part in your traditions.”

Red shuddered in excitement, his eye lights pointed at the bottom and indenting at the top, becoming those perfect little ecstatic hearts. “In that case...” He got down on one knee.

“What are you doing?” Red held the collar up in his two hands, presenting it to Sans like a squire would present a crown. He still glanced up at Sans through his half-lidded sockets, his smile wide with excitement. 

“Sans Serif Gaster, I will protect you with my life, form, and soul. Would you do me the honor o’ wearing this collar in the name of our relationship and my commitment to ya?” Sans was speechless. From the way Red was acting, this was just a step away from soul-bonding. Sans should have answered sooner instead of standing quiet and motionless. But he couldn’t stop staring. He could barely think over the sound of his pounding soul.

He shouldn’t have dressed like a fucking minion. 

“Can I change first?”

Red’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Is that a yes?”

“I mean, yeah. Yes. I’d love to. How could I not?”

Red clenched his teeth, swallowing his celebration to follow through with the ritual. He opened the collar and looped it around Sans’s neck. He watched Red work, feeling the weight of collar comfortably rest on his shoulders. Red’s eye lights were cinched with focus, his smile not leaving his face as he clicked the collar into place and turned it right. He thumbed over the heart plate before resting his hands on Sans’s chest. The pressure was comfortable and soothing. Sans brought his hands up and felt the collar in between his fingers. 

“So, does this mean we’re like... boyfriend/boyfriend now?”

Red snorted, pulling Sans into a hug. “You’re such a fuckin’ dork.”

“Yeah, but now I’m officially your dork so...” He pulled on the collar with his thumb, flashing the metal. “No take backsies.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He kissed Sans’s cheek. “Now, if I recall, you want to change?”

“Seems a little late now-“

“Never too late. Mind if I give ya a hand?” He moved his hands up Sans’s shirt, shifting the fabric, caressing his bones without actually touching them. 

“Dinner’s still cookin’.” Red leant forward, brushing his teeth against Sans’s neck, just above the collar, as he reached his hand around his hips to turn the oven off. “Well, I-I guess with that taken care of, and you gettin’ me all hot under the collar, I couldn’t possibly object.”

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart.” Red took the two straps of Sans’s overalls in his hands and pulled him into a kiss. 

His boyfriend was ordinarily the opposite of gentle. He liked things rough and tough. But this was just soft and loving, the kind of kiss that made him forget where he was. All he could feel and think of was Red. His hands gently trailing up and down his body. His tongue thrumming with magic against Sans’s own. His soul pulsing with so much strength that it wracked through Sans’s very marrow. He moaned into it, unzipping Red’s parka and running his hands between his first and second layers, making Red gasp at the cold touch between his warm fabrics.

Sans held tight to Red under his coat, pressing their bodies together. He smiled against him, reached his hands down to behind Sans’s femurs, and hoisted him up. He hooked his legs on Red’s pelvis, holding him cose and tight, not thinking about where his magic flowed or what they would do next. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Red growled, clawing at Sans’s tailbone. “You’re all mine. All fuckin’ mine.”

“’M yours,” he confirmed, echoing his lover. He felt the pelvis he was hooked onto walk them somewhere. He’d lost all orientation until he was pressed against plush familiar couch cushions. Red straddled him, still firmly holding his hips in place so he could ground down on him. “’M all yours, babe, all yours.”

Red nipped his neck. “Jus’ keep sayin’ that, sweetheart.” He did. He chanted the words like a mantra, saying them over and over as hands came to his overall straps. He chanted as they were unclipped and flipped over their shoulders. As Red pulled the front of the overalls down. As he pulled up his shirt. He drunkenly lifted his arms, aiding as best he could in his present condition to disrobe himself. “Fuck, I put a collar on ya and suddenly you’re puddy under my hands.” He clasped the leather band in his hand, yanking it forward, lifting Sans’s shoulders off the couch. The tension pulled Sans out of his aroused stupor. He blinked to really look at his boyfriend.

The loving and soft demeanor was melting away. His smile was curved and wily, showing off his sharp teeth as he eyed Sans like he was a buffet. “If you don’t hurry up and take the rest of my clothes off, you’re gonna fuck a minion.” Red yanked the goggles off with one hand, throwing them across the room. He put Sans back down and quickly undid the buttons on the sides of his overalls, pulling the front flap low enough that Sans’s pelvis was exposed. Red crawled over him, his face taking up Sans’s vision, his eye lights glowing in the shadow of their position. 

“’Member that thing you said about our next level?” He growled. 

Sans had already forgotten their entire previous conversation. That was how out of it the kiss had made him. He closed his eyes, searching for the memory and finding it relatively quickly. “You mean... like butt stuff?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Red captured his mouth again in a kiss. Sans moaned, wrapping his arms around his neck and arching into it. Red was so together and finessed, carefully moving his tongue in the exact way he needed to in order to get Sans to mewl in just the right ways. He whined and whimpered, unable to hold back his responses to every ministration. Especially when his hand was in Sans’s pelvis, moving the magic to form the required parts they needed. He felt his magic swirl, form, and solidify. 

“Ah-ha!” Red had pressed his thumb against Sans’s newly formed anus, dipping into it ever so slightly. 

“Just like that.” Red brought his hand up between their faces, breaking their kiss and shoving his fore and middle finger in Sans’s mouth. “Lube ‘em up real nice, precious.” 

Sans gently grabbed Red’s wrist, holding it still so he could properly lick his fingers. He wrapped his tongue around and in between them, sucking and taking the fingers to their knuckles. “Fuck, sweetheart.” The bones were porous in his mouth, easily soaking up and taking his magic with them. When he finally released his sucking grip and pulled Red’s fingers out, a long strand of saliva connected the tips of the fingers to the tip of Sans’s tongue. 

“Was that good?” he purred, knowing the answer. Red was speechless. Sans’s soul pulsed in pride. He rubbed his fingers together, testing the consistency. 

“One way to find out.” Red pressed his forehead against Sans’s, leaning his arm down and cautiously pressing his forefinger into the hole. No matter how many times he summoned it, his anus never remembered the experience of being used. He stiffened and arched, the finger diving deep and rotating, trying to coat his magic before adding the second finger. “Well, that was easy.”

“What can I say? I – fuuuuuu-ngh!” He tensed, arching his head back as Red’s warm cock pressed against his entrance. He had been so focused on lubing the fingers that he hadn’t even seen him summon it, or noticed him pull it out. It came as a surprise, making him shudder and shake, the head slowly slipping inside him. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He paused, letting Sans adjust before sliding in just a bit more. “You feel so good. Ya always feel so good.”

“Only good for you,” he whined. “Just for you, babe.”

“That’s right. Just for me. No one else. Ya don’t let anyone else do this to ya.” He slid in deeper before stopping. Sans could feel Red’s pelvis press against his own as he hilted. “Mine. All mine.”

“All yours.” His words were barely above a whisper. He closed his sockets, focusing on taking Red in just the way he liked, loose but just tensed enough to gently squeeze the member inside him. “Only yours.”

Red growled. He pulled Sans’s legs up by his femurs, hooking them over his iliac crests to deepen his position just slightly. Sans held onto Red’s neck, letting his boyfriend nuzzle against him, brushing his nasal cavity against the studded blue leather. It was so new. He’d worn it for less than half an hour. But it felt good to have Red nuzzle it. To know what it meant and how it made him feel. He never wanted to take it off. 

Especially not now with Red gently rolling his hips, moving deeper and then shallower in Sans. “Ah, yes, fuck yes, babe,” he moaned. Red scraped his teeth against Sans’s neck vertebrae. He was pressed against the cushions, Red holding him up with a hand on his lower spine and Sans’s legs on his hips. And, with Red’s extra hand, he gently held his shaft, stroking his thumb on the underside of San’s member in time with the undulating wave of his hips. 

All he saw was stars. All he felt was pleasure. All he could think about was Red and the way he gently held him. The scrape of his teeth went deeper. He bit each of his vertebrae, marking the bones under the collar before kissing Sans. 

He was useless in the kiss. A victim to his sensations, he could barely react in time to Red’s tongue. He was slow and sluggish, his breath shaking and his bones rattling in pleasure and anticipation. His magic was rising in him, his cock twitching and his butt clenching. Red groaned into him.

“Sweetheart, I’m... nngh.”

“Mmmhmf.” He couldn’t form words. His tongue was too busy and his mind was too muddled. His pleasure rose higher, the sensations tugging him up like a pulley system until he let it out. His magic flared, his bones and joints glowing, his cum spurting on Red’s shirt, his mouth agape in a low ecstatic moan. The extra heat and grip around Red’s cock made him follow soon after. 

He was filled, overstimulated, and finally breathing as his release passed through him, letting all the tension in his bones leave. Red remained sturdy, keeping their position, his bones shuddering with the pleasure of his soul as he gasped. 

When he gained his senses, he let Sans down to rest on the couch, pulling himself out. He caught his breath over Sans, pulling both their trousers back up, maintaining some nonexistent semblance of modesty. He put his forehead on Sans’s chest, laying down and nuzzling against him. Sans limply put his hands on the back of Red’s skull, holding him as he gasped for breath himself. 

Red nestled into him, reaching a hand up to hold the collar around Sans’s neck, rubbing his thumb over the engraved heart. 

“I love ya, sweetheart.”

“Mm, love you, too.” He closed his sockets, turning his head and getting comfortable. He had regained his ability to focus and concentrate and think, but now he was tired. He recognized Red’s soul pulse – he was drowsy and on his way to sleep too. So, he just held his skull, let Red hold his collar and entangle his other arm in his ribcage. He was warm and heavy, like a weighted blanket that was pulling Sans down into the deep depths of sleep. 

When they woke up, it was the middle of the night. Red reheated the quiche while Sans went upstairs to fully get out of the rest of his joke outfit. 

He put on his pajamas, keeping the shirt slightly unbuttoned so his collar was wholly visible. The weight was already comfortable, and he did like the color and feel of it. But he mostly liked the little plate. He rubbed it with the pad of his thumb. 

I will protect you with my life, form, and soul.

He huffed a laugh. That vow was a two-way street, and he was more than happy to uphold his end for as long as Red would allow him.


	24. Day 24: Alpha/Omega

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Alpha/Omega, mating, soul sex  
Pairing: BlueRazzberry
> 
> Razz is a stubbornly independent omega who has finally found an alpha worth mating with. He just needs to convince him to mate.

Razz had never been intimate, and not for lack of interest. Most alphas practically bellowed their status. One whiff of Razz and they tried to get in his pants immediately. He’d always fought back and, by some act of god, had made it to his present age without being mated with at all. He was proud of that. No one was going to mate with him just because they instinctually thought he’d let them. 

Blue was different. They met at the gym. They used parallel elipticals. He could smell Blue’s status – and it was only heightened by their sweat and adrenaline from exercise. But Blue didn’t say anything. Sure, he made small talk here and there, but afterwards he just said good bye. He wasn’t there every time Razz when to the gym. But when he was, he was friendly and kind. They’d ran at the gym together a dozen times before Blue suggested they hang out somewhere and sometime else. 

And that was the beginning of their relationship. They called themselves boyfriends, they hung at the gym and had lunch and dinner dates regularly. All without Blue ever mentioning their statuses. Razz loved it. Blue treated him as more than the omega every other alpha treated him as. And that respect was intoxicating. 

As time passed and they spent more time together, the inevitable happened. Razz was in heat. And, because they were dating, Blue must have been in rut. He practically confirmed as much when he texted Razz and cancelled their lunch date. Razz had once wondered if Blue was just dating him until their cycles started, so he’d be trusting enough to mate, but cancelling their plans made him second guess it.

They made it through their first cycle without touching each other once, or even seeing one another. 

And then their relationship turned back to normal. Three months of comfortable, cuddly, absolutely normal bliss. When they cycled the second time, Razz was ready for Blue to be his first. Again, all plans cancelled for a week before a peaceful return to their routine. 

By the third heat, Razz wasn’t just ready. He wanted Blue. He’d never wanted anyone before. But Blue had shown they didn’t need sex to have a relationship – that their being together wasn’t dependent on them mating. With that assurance, he was comfortable and wanted to mate with his boyfriend. When Blue provided his scheduled cancellation text, Razz responded with wanting to meet up anyway. 

Blue insisted and they didn’t mate during that third heat. 

They’d been together a year. Razz loved every second of it. But he wanted his boyfriend. He wanted to mate with him, be taken and bred by bis chosen alpha. And he didn’t want to wait anymore. 

So, fourth cycle, Blue texted him that their plans were cancelled. Razz didn’t text him back. Rather, he pulled on his raw and flammable magic to teleport to his boyfriend’s apartment, a place he had been many times when not drunk on his heat. 

He appeared in the living room. Blue wasn’t there, but his smell was. It was thick and fragrant, a perfect combination between his boyfriend – bathroom cleaner, peppermint, and fabric softener – and Razz’s favorite smell – fresh leather in a new car. It was his ideal cocktail, meant to intoxicate him into submission. And it was working. He staggered through the apartment and down the hall. The smell was strongest near the bedroom door. Blue was likely behind it.

He knocked on the door. An inhuman growl came from the other side. “Leave, Razz.”

“I’m not gonna leave you, Baby Blue,” Razz said. He tried to open the door, but the knob was stuck. “Let me in.” The door jerked and thumped, a strong force pounding against it from inside the bedroom. He jumped back, letting go of the door knob from the sheer force of the rumble. 

“You need to go.” The voice was undoubtably Blue’s, just Blue while racked with the hormones of rut. Razz made himself walk toward the door and rest his hand on the wood. “I can’t control myself with you here.” 

“I don’t want you to control yourself,” Razz said. “Baby, please.” His own body was trembling. He may not have had the fierceness or the aggression that Blue was exhibiting, but his own heat was racking through him. His cunt had summoned before he had teleported, and now the smell and sounds of Blue were making him drip with excitement.

Another pound on the door. Razz didn’t jump, instead he leant into it. “Y-You don’t...”

“Blue, please,” he hated how his voice whined as he unintentionally begged. “I want you. Badly. Please.”

Another growl. “God dammit, Razz.” The door flew open. Razz had been leaning on the wood and he fell forward when it went out from under him. And, to his absolute joy and mortification, he landed against his boyfriend’s burning bare bones. Hands clutched his back, dragging him inside the room, the door closing them in before he was thrown on the bed. 

Blue stood shirtless over him. His boxers barely covered the intense blue magic that pooled in his pelvis and glowed through the fabric. His eye lights were blown and glowing bright blue, the same glow in his joints and between his bones. His chest was heaving with his breath and his fists were clenched at his sides. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He stepped back, further and further until he was pressed against the door, his hand on the door knob. “Sorry, sorry.” Razz sat up, his bones shaking and rattling against himself, his crotch aching at the concentrated smell in the room. 

“Blue?” Razz practically whined, his voice unable to summon any other intonation. Blue looked away. 

“Don’t say my name like that.” His whole face clenched as he inhaled, likely taking in Razz’s scent. “Why are you here?”

“You’re rutting.”

Blue snorted. “Yes, and you’re in heat. Now that we’re finished with the obvious, why are you here?” Razz mustered up his courage and strength, pushing himself to a stand. He could barely hold it, his knees weak and his pelvis aching painfully as he stumbled forward. 

“We have been dating for a year,” Razz announced. He took a step. “You have not come onto me at all during that time and I am greatly appreciative of your respect for my boundaries and my agency despite my status.” Another step. He was moving through the thick musky air like climbing through a humid jungle. “But I’m ready. I’m ready for you.” Blue rattled, his bones clacking with anticipation and a steel-grip of control as Razz got closer. “I’m ready to mate, and I want to mate with you, Baby Blue.” He dared to reach his hands out and take one of Blue’s clenched fists. He let a breath out. “Don’t you want me, too?”

Blue gasped out a chuckle, still keeping his sockets pointed away. “Of course, I want you.” His voice shook almost as much as his bones. “But, hasn’t this been nice? Pretending... pretending I’m not a... and you’re not... it’s been nice.” It had been nice. Spending time with an alpha and not feeling hunted made Razz feel completely safe and oddly free. And it was because of that freedom that he wanted Blue so badly now. 

“It has been,” Razz sympathized. “And that doesn’t have to change.” Blue finally let his eye lights land on his boyfriend. The gaze was burning, heating Razz’s bones and sending a jolt of pleasure right to his core, his soul manifesting under his shirt without permission and his magic leaking and soaking his pants. 

“If we mate, things are going to change. I’m going to change.” It was true. A mated Alpha was protective and possessive, taking ownership over their mate and permanently marking them as claimed. He likely wouldn’t keep his space in the future. They’d probably move in together. They’d breed for every cycle and he’d start keeping tabs on Razz’s life. The omega would lose some of his agency for sure, but he’d be trading it in for protection from other alphas and a permanent loving relationship. 

He’d known this in preparation before coming over. He knew what mating entailed and he had come over anyway. Because, to Razz, that was a worthy trade. He was ready to become Blue’s mate. And he was excited to. 

He closed the space between their bodies. When Razz’s dressed sternum pressed against his bare rib cage, Blue hissed in a breath and looked up, trying to distract himself. Razz cupped his chin and pulled his gaze down. Blue’s soul glowed bright behind his ribs, it’s magic reaching out to Razz in pulses and thrums. But he still maintained control and kept his body against the wall. “You’ll still be my Baby Blue.”

“I... You mean it? You’re sure?” 

Razz nodded, letting himself smile wide. “So long as you don’t break me.”

Blue huffed out a laugh. “I make no promises.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Razz stood on his toes, cupping his slightly taller boyfriend’s face. “I am asking you to take me, please. Or at least pick me up because I can’t keep standing for much longer.” He meant it. His legs were weak and were close to giving out on him. 

They didn’t though. Because Blue finally peeled himself off the wall. He easily picked Razz up, allowing the omega to wrap his arms and legs around him. Blue kept his face tucked in Razz’s neck, making him crane his head, loving the way he breathed him in. It was relatively tender, but that wouldn’t last. 

No, it left as soon Blue crawled them onto the bed. He sat over Razz and started undressing him. It was aggressive. Razz felt his buttons pop and seems tear as Blue ripped and yanked at the fabric. He removed the shirt before going to his pants, yanking them down Razz’s useless legs before casting them aside. Razz looked up at him over his ribcage. Blue was staring at his summoned magic, the pinkish red light shining off of his sweaty bones. 

He didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t say what he was going to do or asked permission. He just lifted Razz’s pelvis by pulling on his femurs, curled down, and started eating Razz out. 

His lips had been so hungry that they ached. Now that they were being stimulated, he couldn’t help but moan, his whole-body quivering as Blue lapped up his juices. Teeth scraped against his flesh, pulling gasps out of him in an animalistic way, like something reached down deep inside him, grabbed a sound with burning claws, and pulled it up out the way it came and let it go outside of him. He couldn’t hear himself. He could just feel. Feel the warm tongue. Feel the draining tugs. Feel the bed he was clawing at. The mouth left his cunt only to be replaced by fingers. They slid so easily in their exploration. Blue’s tongue travelled up, licking his spine and ribs, scraping teeth against his sternum. 

He felt Blue shift their hips, the fingers leaving him before his cock pressed quickly against and inside him. It slid in so easily. He felt his flesh stretch and clamp around the member, then the small knot. Once inside, he could feel it swell. It stretched inside him, tearing him open from deep within his magic, yanking another scream from him. He could only barely feel Blue move his legs up over his shoulders.

But then he was muffled as Blue took his mouth in his own. Razz submitted, letting his partner’s tongue choose their tempo to match the rhythm of his hips. He didn’t feel the cock so much as he felt the knot. That bulbous swell that moved up and down his vagina, tugging on his skin as Blue tested its ability to stay locked in. Razz gasped and squeaked when his opening was stretched by something that was too big to pull out. Blue growled, satisfied, nipping Razz’s tongue before tucking his head in the crook of Razz’s neck. His hands came up to hold Razz’s wrists steadfast against the bed. 

Again, no asking. No permission. No caution before Blue started slamming into him. “Ah! Ah-ha-ha!” He couldn’t help the yelps that escaped him. His hands flexed against their boney restraints, his toes curling and his magic creating more and more lube to accommodate Blue’s demanding movement. 

His legs were falling asleep, his cunt ached at the stretch but so desperately enjoyed being so god damn full. It was like Razz had been missing something for years. He was born without an organ, akin to a heart – something that gave his body life and purpose and persistence. He hadn’t even known he was missing it but now that he felt their connection, he couldn’t imagine his life without it. 

His life was utterly incomplete without this feeling. This fullness. This partner. 

He hadn’t realized his eyes had been closed until he opened his sockets and exhaustedly turned his head to look at Blue. He couldn’t see him well, but he noticed his clenched jaw and the blue glow from his cheekbones. 

“B-Baby Blue,” he gasped, his voice hitching with each thrust. A growl and a scrape of teeth against his neck was his only response. “Blue, l-hook at me.” Another scrape of teeth on bone before he moved his head to look at Razz. He was so deep in his rut, in the breeding, in his hormones, that he didn’t even have eyelights now. Two empty black voids looked back at him. “I love you.” The words may have been from his heat drunk state. Ordinarily he may have been more resistant to say something with such weight. But not now. Not when all he knew was Blue. They flowed out of him easily, effortlessly, and as they left him, he immediately felt them ring true through his marrow. 

Blue said nothing back. Razz wondered if his mate had even heard his declaration. All Blue did was put his head back down in his shoulder, run his teeth against the sensitive bones and opening his mouth wide before and biting deep, easily breaking through layers of bone and piercing his marrow. “NYAAAH!” It hurt, blindingly so to the point that Razz lost all of his grounding. Like a tether cut lose, he lost himself. He didn’t know where he was. He could have been on a bed, on a dock, under water or floating through the abyss of space. Each option was just as likely as he felt himself become weightless, abandoning his sense of a corporeal form and knowing and feeling only one thing – Blue. Blue’s bones, eye lights, magic, words, manners, touches, voice – his skull swirled with thoughts of him. In that moment, the only thing that was and that mattered was his new mate. 

His thoughts swirled in a vague state of amalgam, floating endlessly and wordlessly in his skull for an uncertain amount of time. He wasn’t sure how long he had been that way before coming out of it. 

What he did know was that, when he came back to himself, he was on his side. He could still feel the cock throbbing inside him, the cock spurting and leaking, the knot keeping it all in his summoned abdomen. The blue fluid floated in his magenta body hypnotically. Wrapped around his abdomen and ribs were two arms with blue magic still shining bright in the joints. A large, flat, warm tongue lapped against a painful bite mark, trying to heal and soothe it. The body behind him purred. 

Razz made a squeaking sound, trying to say something but not getting anything across. The tongue froze and the body behind him propped itself up, keeping their crotches linked. Razz turned his head and couldn’t hide his star struck reaction. 

It was still Blue. It was still his same boyfriend. But that infinite moment of thinking and feeling nothing but him... when he saw Blue’s face after all of those whirring thoughts, he couldn’t hide his ultimate admiration. 

His eye lights were back and he smiled, care free, before leaning down and kissing Razz excitedly. Razz tried to match his enthusiasm, but failed, his body still weak and shaking from taking everything his cock still had to give. “Look up, sunshine.” Razz didn’t want to. It seemed impossible to pull his gaze off of his new mate. When he finally managed, he couldn’t believe what was before him. Floating above them, like two drops of water being telekinetically manipulated around and through each other, coming together and separating in their bonding dance, were their souls. His signature raspberry colored soul combined with blue’s cyan soul to make a gorgeous royal purple that flashed and pulsed in color and light. When the souls separated, each one still retained a drop of that gorgeous purple. 

They’d bonded in more ways than one that day. They solidified their mated bond with Blue marking him as he had. But their souls bonded, too, permanently combining their magic. They weren’t just societally or instinctually linked, but they were connected to each other’s souls now, permanently anchored to each other for the rest of their lives. 

Razz limply lifted his hand up to cup Blue’s cheek. His boyfriend was positively ecstatic, his smile glowing and his eye lights sending pulsing waves of love through Razz’s marrow. 

“Guess you’ll always be my Baby Blue,” Razz muttered, utterly exhausted. Blue’s eye lights glowed, and he tucked his head in Razz’s neck. 

“I love you, too, by the way.”

They spent the week together, locked in the apartment and perpetually entwined in love-making. 

And then, Blue’s rut subsided and Razz’s heat left him. Their magic returned to normal and Razz finally went back to his apartment. Blue let him go alone, to collect his things before bringing it back to his mate’s home. Blue clung to him when he returned. 

Their relationship did change. Blue was a little more territorial. He was tense when they left the house together, or when Razz wasn’t around. And Razz was the same. When Blue wasn’t by his side, he felt like a child walking through a spooky wood, worried that something was going to jump out from behind a corner. 

But when they were together... When they were together it was utter bliss. Razz never felt so safe and free and cherished, and Blue never felt more valued, effective, and comfortable. It was different from before they mated. Neither of them minded.

That new life-giving organ pulsed with everything they did. They went to the gym. They had lunch and dinner dates. They visited both of their brothers on a regular basis. Everything was the same as it always had been. 

Just more intense and with their hands perpetually clasped together. 

And Razz couldn’t have wanted it in any other way.


	25. Day 25: Monsterfucking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Monsterfucking, Bloodsucking  
Pairing: DancesWithWolves (dt!Sans/fs!Papyrus)
> 
> A continuation of the relationship on Day 17. Sansy finds himself in a strange new place and without his many inhibitive walls, and Mutt's there with him. But something's different about his booty-call.

Sansy was in a great grand hall. Massive marble collumns reached from floor to ceiling. And sprouting from them against the ceiling were gorgeous barrel arches. The floor was decorated with tiny, intricate tiles that made it seem like he was walking on a rainbow. 

He was in a dress. He wasn’t sure why he was in a dress, but he was. It was white and fluffy, the skirt expanding far from his body, the layers and layers of frills moving like a pile of leaves in the wind with every step. The dress was tight against his rib cage, with a form-fitting and high lace collar, and sleeves that covered his hands like gloves. Then there was the veil, a tiara on his head that held a lacey cape like thing that hung behind him, and a shorter lace curtain that fell in front of his face. 

If he didn’t know any better. He’d say it was a wedding dress. 

The room filled with rows of pews. Each one was completely empty, but they helped Sansy realize he was actually in a church. At the altar stood a white rose flower arch. Maybe he would find answers to his situation over there. 

He carefully glided up the aisle. It was effortless to move, but he could still hear the click of the heels he hadn’t known he was wearing on the tiles as he floated up to the altar. He stood at the center of the arch and looked around, desperate to find someone or something to provide answers. 

His pleas were answered when he felt a presence behind him. Two hands with long, skinny, black-cloth gloved fingers curled over his boney soldiers. 

“I didn’t think you’d show up, angel.”

He immediately recognized that voice. 

“Mutt? What are-“

“Shh.” Mutt lowered down, shushing right next to Sansy’s skull. The feel of the breath and the tickle of the sound sent shivers down his spine. “Don’t ask questions.” He almost asked why but held his tongue when he realized that was a question. The hands carefully turned him. Mutt stood behind him, holding himself straight and looking smart in a black tuxedo, a large cape hanging from his shoulders. The strangest part though was his teeth. 

He had always had that sharp gold tooth of a canine. But now, on the other side, there was an equally large and sharp tooth that belonged to him. Its white surface gleamed in the candle lit space. 

Mutt held their hands tightly between. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” Sansy said. It wasn’t technically a question. 

“Why, my dear sweet angel,” Mutt purred, leaning down just a bit so, if Sansy were to stand on his toes, they would meet halfway, “tonight is the night I make you mine.” 

His breath hitched, magic pooling immediately to his crotch at the brazenness of the statement. “We barely know each other.”

“I know you well enough,” he assured. “And I know you want this.”

He was right. Sansy did want this. He wanted to be Mutt’s, to have a relationship and to be together officially and to stop with the one-night stands. If that meant getting married in this gothic setting, he’d take it. It was a ridiculous settlement, but it made perfect sense to him in that moment.

Mutt brought Sansy’s left hand up to his face, kissing the back and then the palm of it. “Say you’ll be mine.”

“I’ll be yours,” he gasped, out of breath from his sheer thirsty anticipation. 

“Say you love me.”

“I love you.” 

Mutt hummed, smiling wide and closing his eyes. “Say-“

“I’ll say anything you want. I’ll be yours, please, Mutt... please.” He didn’t know what he was begging for. He knew there was certainly something he was vying to get, at least there had to be based on his severe feeling desperation. And he was willing to do or say anything to make that unknown happen, for Mutt to give it to him what he didn’t know he needed.

A sound rumbled up through Mutt’s body. He kissed the side of Sansy’s palm again. He let his tongue lick it with a featherlight touch before he opened his mouth and bit into his bones. His sharp teeth easily penetrated the surface of the metacarpals and cut into his marrow. Sansy couldn’t hold back the guttural whine of pain. And then, to his horrific surprise, he sucked. Mutt sucked the bones, draining the marrow from his hand. 

His head rushed with adrenaline as he watched Mutt clutch his hand, cradling it and sucking it, pulling marrow and magic seemingly from his soul, dragging it from his core, down his arm, up his wrist and through the holes he made in his hand. The magic started getting pulled from his feet, making him feel weak. “Mutt... Mutt, stop.”

He did as told, releasing his hold and looking at Sansy’s hand. Dark blue marrow started leaking from the holes and dripping down in rolling streams down his wrist. Mutt licked it up like it was melted ice cream. He stroked his tongue over the bite marks, healing what he left behind with his soft golden red tongue. 

“You taste just as wonderful as I imagined,” he purred, taking a step forward and closing the space between them. He squatted, scooped Sansy up by his pelvis and lifted him up. His skirt bent and flowed down from his legs, seemingly increasing in length until it barely kissed the floor. Mutt cupped his cheek with his free hand. “My precious angel, I will wreck you.”

“Wai-“ Mutt kissed him, sucking immediately on his tongue and pulling moans out of him. He hadn’t felt them move. He still thought they were in a church, but suddenly he was thrown down into a coffin. The interior was plush, full of soft black velvet that was pillowed with something sublime. Mutt leant over Sansy, loosening his tie as he leant down and kissed him again. 

As the bite had drained his magic, the kisses rejuvenated it. His soul pulsed and grew, pumping fresh aroused magic into his marrow and into his crotch. Mutt pushed and arranged the skirts, making room for his hand to reach down and cup his magic. Sansy couldn’t hold back the gasp. Mutt held himself up with a hand near his head, and he watched his face with calculated concentration as he fingered him. 

His face contorted and clenched, that cold fingers easily slipping inside him with no struggle or friction. “You feel so good.” Mutt bend down and started kissing Sansy’s neck. “So good, angel.” He nipped and licked, scraping his teeth, tearing away the lace and teasingly stripping layers of bone bit by bit. 

Not again. He didn’t want to be drained again. 

He took the lapels of Mutt’s coat in his hands and tugged on him, pulling him so he had to lay on top of him. “Pleasure me first, stud.” It was all he could think to say. All he could think would put off the second draining bite. 

Mutt smiled above him, his hand leaving Sansy’s lips. “As you wish, angel.” He captured his mouth. Sansy arched into him, holding the back of his head to keep him close. Mutt let him control their mouths, leading them through exploration and pleasure. Sansy tugged and pulled, trying to milk equally shameful sounds from him as Mutt had taken from him. 

He was so distracted by his mission that he hadn’t noticed what else Mutt was doing until he slid his cock inside. 

Sansy couldn’t help but furrow his brow. It didn’t feel right. It felt good and warm, but he wasn’t full. Like it was a ghost of a member inside him instead of his usual cock. He was going to say something, but Mutt started rolling in and out of him, grinding and kissing and pushing his cock as deep as it could go. It didn’t feel as phenomenal as it once did, but it was still incredibly warm pleasuring. He moaned and gasped into Mutt’s mouth, rocking their hips together, using his feet to get stability and to lift his pelvis to meet his partner’s.

He was moaning too much and gasping too frequently, making him incapable of continuing to kiss like he had been. And with him not providing entertainment, Mutt kissed and licked his way over to Sansy’s neck – the same side he had bitten on that first night they spent together. “I’ve humored you enough, angel,” he hummed, licking his bones through the holey lace. “But I’m hungry, and you’re mine, remember?” His voice was nothing more than a low rumble. He traced his nasal cavity up his neck. 

Sansy couldn’t protest. He was too busy letting out weak sounds, his throat clogged with the noises he was making. 

And then the teeth came down. Just like with the palm of his hand, the sharp bones easily pierced through his collar bone and neck vertebrae, hitting his boiling marrow and sucking the magma out. 

Sansy arched his whole body, his mouth agape with a noise that couldn’t crawl out of him through the pain and pleasure. The cock was twitching inside him, sending him waves of pleasure as the teeth drained him of all his magic. He felt his toes and hands go cold. Like a reverse waterfall, like his bones were a straw, all of his marrow moved and flowed through his hollow bones, up from his extremities and to the multitude of holes in his neck. His mind went blank, his very thoughts being taken with his life force. 

He could feel his soul, a three-dimensional energy mass, become empty, all the magic inside leaving before the see-through flesh net followed. He lost the feeling of Mutt’s cock inside him as the magic organ dissipated, no longer having the burning fire of his soul to sustain it. His silent scream let out a short, choking sound before all the air left him. His vision flashed in and out before going dark. The last thing he saw was Mutt licking his viscous blue marrow from his golden tooth.

Sansy bolted up from his sleep, immediately pawing at all parts of his body. He checked his neck and didn’t feel any dripping marrow. He checked his chest and didn’t feel the delicate lace or bodice, but the cotton fabric of the tank top he slept in. 

And that’s how he realized it. He was in his bed, in his apartment, sweaty from the nightmare (or wet dream?), but otherwise unharmed. He grabbed his bottle of water from beside his bed and drank the whole of it until his dry mouth could feel again. He took deep breaths. 

It had all been a dream. 

A weird, sexy, vampire dream about the guy he’d had a booty call relationship with for the last four months. The fifth of its kind that week. Well, not the vampire and blood drinking shit, but the getting swooped up and sexed up by Mutt. His cunt was still formed from the wet dream. 

He flopped down on the bed, pressing his palms into his eye sockets. 

He had it bad. Really bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to write monsterfucking as a kink when all of the previous entries are inherently monsterfucking? Solution? Add vampires.
> 
> The finale of this relationship is Day 30.


	26. Day 26: Orgasm Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Orgasm Denial  
Pairing: Mapleblossom
> 
> Like lunatics, Papyrus and Rus have decided to not have sex for a month. But Papyrus can't wait that long, and begs Rus to go back on their agreement.

Papyrus was positively itching. He sat at his work desk. Magic was pooled in his pelvis and it had been there for the last three days. And it was all because of Rus’s dumb idea! Why had he agreed to it?!

Sure, it had seemed innocent enough at the time. Rus suggested they go a month without having sex and then, to make it extra challenging, neither of them would orgasm on their own time. They had agreed not to touch each other or touch themselves for a month and do nothing in incite any sort of climax. No grinding, no frotting, no dry humping, no masturbation, nothing! Papyrus had thought it would be easy. Before getting together with Rus, he wasn’t a very sexual monster. He masturbated every now and then and had an occasional wet dream, but it wasn’t any sort of habit. 

He hadn’t realized that, since he started dating Rus, he actually had a “sex life”. They made love multiple times a week and Papyrus had gotten accustomed to his routine releases. He hadn’t thought that going back to his previous habits would be so difficult. 

But it was. Oh, it was so incredibly painfully difficult. The first week had been a bit of a struggle, the second had turned a little painful. He’d hug Rus from behind only for his boyfriend to kiss him on the cheek before spinning out of his arms. The third week he had really started to crave Rus’s touch. He had to stop sleeping in their bedroom and move to the couch because he didn’t trust himself to have boundaries when they slept. 

Three days ago, his magic pooled in his pelvis and it hadn’t gone away. 

He could barely focus on his work with the magic that was burning in his crotch. He’d read three words and then the rest would become blurred as his magic swirled inside him, unsettled. It was desperate for guidance, a hand to tell it what it was supposed to be. His bones were sensitive to the point that the rub of the fabric of his shirt on their surface was as arousing as a gentle caress from his lover. And it was just his shirt!

He looked at the clock, trying to decide if he could afford to leave early. They’d gone twenty-six days. That had to count as a month. Rus would take pity on him. It was their first time having a sex drought. He’d be understanding. The sooner he got home, the sooner he’d see Rus and the sooner he’d get some sort of relief. 

Deciding that four o’clock was a decent hour, he scurried out of his office and drove home. 

He had been praying Rus would be there waiting for him, but of course he wasn’t. He had a day job at a flower shop and the owner usually kept him late. Papyrus knew that. Logically, that made sense. But his animalistic and horny mind couldn’t grapple with that rational truth. 

No, all his mind could do was make him nervously pace around the house. He pulled out an old crossword puzzle book from the shelf and started filling it out. Unlike his work that required intense focus that he couldn’t muster, the crossword was relatively simple and mindless. He was going through page after page, grateful for something to do with his hands and mind that didn’t feel like climbing a mental mountain. 

He went through twenty pages of puzzles before Rus finally came home. He leapt up like an eager puppy at the sight of his boyfriend. “Sorry I’m late. Boss lady needed me to prep some arrangements for tomorrow.” He put his keys in the dish by the door before taking off his outer coat. “Have you started dinner?”

Papyrus shook his head. He hadn’t been thinking about food. He was a different kind of hungry. 

“I’ll order Indian. I’m not really in the mood to cook.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started talking to the person on the other side. Papyrus found himself gravitating towards Rus as he talked on the phone, moving silently closer with every step. Rus seemed unaware of his prowling until Papyrus hugged him from behind, looping his arms around his waist and nuzzling into Rus’s neck. He breathed him in. Rus hung up the phone, smiling widely. “It’ll be here in thirty minutes or less.”

“We have some time, then?”

“Not for this,” Rus said, spinning in his arms to face Papyrus, his hands pressing on his chest and establishing a certain amount of distance. “Three days left, love.”

“Actually, I was thinking about that earlier, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we don’t need to wait three more days.” Rus raised a brow, intrigued by the suggestion. 

“Oh, we don’t?”

“We don’t! Because, you see, this is our first time spending some time apart. And for a first try I think we’ve done a truly wonderful job together! However, we are all faulty and no one is perfect the first time through, so, I think we perhaps ought to do something now and then, maybe in a few months, we try this again and make it the full thirty days!” He smiled. He felt a sweat drop slide down his skull and he felt so much like his brother. 

“You make a good argument,” Rus said. His breath was hitching as he let his hands rub up and down his boyfriend’s rib cage. It felt heavenly to Papyrus. He had been so touch-starved that even these gentle, pressure-less strokes through his shirt and sweater were making him shudder in anticipation. “We’ve both done so well so far. Perhaps we could treat ourselves a little prematurely.” His soul pounded in celebration. 

“YES! Yes, that is an absolutely wonderful idea!”

“We’ll have to be fast,” Rus teased. “Thirty minutes or less.”

Papyrus was so primed for touch that the time limit didn’t even register as a challenge. He just smiled in excitement, lifted Rus by his rib cage, and jogged them over to the couch, pressing his boyfriend against the cushions before slamming their teeth together in a kiss. 

“Hmph!” Rus pushed against his chest. “Just because we’re hungry doesn’t mean we shouldn’t savor this.” He traced a finger along his boyfriend’s jaw. The action made Papyrus shudder, letting out a moan. “One touch does so much, right?” Papyrus nodded, hating that Rus was right. His body was so starved for touch that the slightest stroke did make him feel more than usual. Just laying on top of Rus on the couch was making his bones burn in aroused anticipation. “So, let’s make the most of it.” Papyrus sat back, making room for Rus to sit up. He gently cupped Papyrus’s cheek bone. He unintentionally sighed into it. “And, to make it just a little more interesting...” Rus leant forward, letting his warm breath brush against Papyrus’s bones. Papyrus let out a strained breath, pressing his fingers hard against his body. Rus gently took his wrists and removed them, putting his hands at his sides. “You keep your hands to yourself.”

He snapped to attention. “How in the world does that ‘make the most of it’ or count as interesting?” Rus prowled over him, straddling his hips and pressing Papyrus back against the couch. His hands were squished and pinned between his and Rus’s femurs. He flexed his hands, testing the makeshift restraint and finding himself unable to slip out. 

“Makes it a little more fun for me,” Rus practically purred, sitting back on his haunches and letting his hands explore. 

Papyrus tried to relax. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes, focusing solely on Rus’s gentle touches. First, he traced his pointer fingers up his shoulders from his wrists, featherlight and barely moving the fabric, making it gently brush his bones as he went. He trailed his hands from his shoulders down to his middle, then back up and down and up again, each stroke getting a bit more heavy handed, putting more pressure on his ribs and warming him. His marrow stilledl inside him, only flowing when Rush dared to touch him. 

Rus moved his hips, grinding on him. The magic in his pelvis spiked and swirled, reacting to the stimulus and begging for instruction. He flexed his fingers, wanting to tell it what to do. Instead all he felt was the hot bulge of magic in Rus’s own pants that rubbed against him. 

He gasped at the new seemingly foreign contact, trying to buck up and grind with him and failing. He was trapped, left subject to Rus’s teasing wills. His boyfriend smiled, knowing he had complete control as he leant over and hovered his face in front of Papyrus’s. He let his breath brush against him, the heat making his marrow boil and his bones twitch and twist. He was so close, so tantalizingly close. Papyrus leant forward to kiss him, but Rus pulled back, keeping Papyrus against the couch with two firm hands. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Rus cooed. He curled around Papyrus, letting his breath brush his neck vertebrae. “A little treat?”

“I –“ His words hitched with his aroused breath. Despite the minimal contact, his rib cage was heaving, as if he could will touch to come to him. “This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“Mm, and what did you have in mind?” Rus’s familiar warm tongue caressed the crevices between his vertebrae. Papyrus groaned, rolling his head back. “Talk to me. Tell me everything you wanted.”

“I-I-I thought we m-might...” He swallowed at the wrong times and never had enough breath to say what he needed to. How could he think with his senses so starved and Rus teasing him with that incessant tongue and explorative hands? “We might s-spend the night t-t-together, again.” Those sinful hands unbuttoned the top of Papyrus’s shirt. 

“Mmhm. And how would we start?”

“I-hi would kiss you,” he stuttered. Rus hummed, letting a hand slip under Papyrus’s shirt, bare bone spreading delicately against each other. “Touch you where y-you need to be touched.” Rus rode up on him, that warm crotch heating his middle, making his soul spin in slow sensual agony. 

“And where’s that?” Rus’s own voice started to waiver. Papyrus clenched his sockets. His hands were barely pressing against him, the fingers tips just barely tracing the surface of his bones in featherlight strokes, merely a suggestion of contact. “Tell me, love.”

“E-Everywhere.” He leant against Rus’s skull, making their bones rub against each other, feeling the clogged magic pulsate from his partner in equal wanting. “I’d touch all o-of you.”

“More details, please.” He could feel Rus’s smile almost more than he felt the hand spread against the side of his rib cage, big and warm and encompassing. 

“I’d st-tart with your shoulders, a-and move down to your wrists.” Rus hummed, using his right hand to act out Papyrus’s vision, trailing a hand down to the space between their legs. “Then I-hied remove your belt.”

“You would?” He purred, moving his hand, walking it over Papyrus’s crotch. He pressed the tips of his fingers against the leather. Papyrus couldn’t hide hold off the moan, his magic finally experiencing contact. It was through pants and a leather belt, but it was active pressure. “Would you do this?” He hooked his forefinger into the waistband, pulling on it, relieving some pressure. Papyrus arched, pressing his pelvis forward in pleasurable instinct. Rus smiled. “Or this?” He unbuckled Papyrus’s belt, unbuttoning the waistband and pulling down his fly before gently sliding his hand down his pants. 

His magic pulsed, his soul and bones all shaking in unison when Rus pressed his hand against the front of him. “Oh!” He trailed his fingers, finally giving the magic a corporeal form, creating a smooth vulva and a dripping pussy. He pressed his fingers in the slit, moving his bones through the wet juices, gently petting the relieved and solid flesh. The fingers traced his opening, moved up and how his lips, playing and teasing them, getting tantalizingly close to his clit but never getting close enough. He whined and whimpered. “Rus, please.” 

Rus smiled, leaning forward and kissing him, lazily stroking his tongue in time with his slow, careful strokes. Strokes that were close to what he wanted, but just slightly off from the contact he needed. His pussy trembled, desperate for anything more. Insertion, stimulation, anything more involved that his gentle petting. Like his pussy was a fragile small creature that would disappear if he pressed at all. 

Papyrus desperately tried to free his hands. When that failed, he tried to press against Rus and deepen the kiss. 

But he couldn’t. He sat, tortured, his pussy being teased and his breath hitching as his boyfriend’s magical tongue milked whimpers from him. He mewled and begged, saying his boyfriend’s name desperately. Rus just smiled against him, seeming to savor the teasing. 

But to his complete surprise and gratitude, Rus slipped a finger inside him. It was just the tip, but it stretched his opening, giving his walls something to clamp and pull on. Rus kept his finger in the shallow entrance, teasing the threshold and focusing on stretching his hymen, spreading his juices along the tight rings. “Mm! Hm! Please!” He begged against Rus’s tongue. 

“Shh, patience, love.” It was a promise. At least papyrus believed it was. He just needed to suffer through the teasing. Just put up with the light touches, the constraints, the painfully small touches and caresses, and then eventually Rus would let him move. He would let him touch him and they could do this properly. He just needed patience. 

He tempered his breath, steadying himself and focusing on kissing Rus. He wouldn’t let his mind trail to his cunt, to his vagina that ached at its emptiness and his clit that swelled with untapped arousal. He didn’t think about his hands that were going numb and still clenching and tensing, clawing for hope that they’d break free. No, he didn’t think about any of that. He thought about their kiss. About the soft texture of his boyfriend’s tongue. Of the way he could play with him, getting little sounds from Rus in return. He needed to remind himself that, for as desperate as he was, chances are Rus was just as touch-starved. He just needed to remind Rus of that.

He stopped flexing his hands. He did his best to control his magic, stripping the instinctual reactions from it, trying not to seem as thirsty. Instead, he breathed in their kiss, gently rubbing the tip of his tongue against the roof of Rus’s mouth. 

To his success, Rus gasped, his steadfast grip on Papyrus’s hands faltering for a moment. Papyrus took that opportunity to yank his hands out of their place. He had half a mind to throw Rus down on the couch. But instead, he moved his hands slowly, hovering them around Rus’s head, letting the pads of his fingers and palm just barely touch Rus’s cheek bones. “Ha – I said no touching,” Rus objected. Though he didn’t stop kissing him or move to stop Papyrus’s hands from doing what he wanted. 

“I’m n-hot touching you,” he said. He wasn’t. He was just teasing, letting his hands hover above the bones, the heat from his magic transferring over but not letting any bone on bone contact happen. Rus whimpered, scrunching his shoulders and shuddering. Papyrus ran his hands over Rus’s body like a metal detector on a beach, brushing his clothing, heating his skull, brushing the back of his knuckles against his jeans. 

He could feel Rus cracking above him, kissing him deeper, a little more aggressively. He wasn’t nearly as gentle and slow. He wasn’t the one teasing. He was trying to hold himself back. The finger in Papyrus’s pussy delved deep to the knuckle. They moaned together. Rus cupped Papyrus’s cheek. “Fuck, fuck let’s just – just fu-“

The doorbell rang. They froze against each other, breathing in the sexual tension. Papyrus wanted Rus to ignore the food at the door. To kiss him and continue and give them both the relief they both so clearly wanted. 

He didn’t. He pulled his hand out of Papyrus’s pussy. He made a show out of licking his fingers clean as he crawled off of Papyrus’s lap. 

Papyrus disappointedly fixed his trousers and belt, hiding the pussy that wouldn’t disappear until he got his much-needed release. Rus paid, the delivery guy left, and he put the food on the counter. “I gotta wash up for dinner,” he said, walking to the bathroom. Papyrus stopped him, grabbing his wrist. 

“Aren’t we going to finish what we started?”

Rus shook his head. “No. That was just a treat. Still gotta wait three days for the full meal.” He flashed that shit-eating grin, acting like he hadn’t been as close to snapping as he was. No, he shook his hand free of his boyfriend’s grip and went to the bathroom, washing his hands. 

When Papyrus was dividing the take out, he put an extra piece of chicken on his plate in rebellion.


	27. Day 27: Sex-Pollen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Sex-Pollen,   
Pairing: Classic Fontcest
> 
> Papyrus shares a fragile secret and Sans suffers the consequences. 
> 
> CW: This is entirely non-consensual and never becomes consensual. Feel free to skip, cause I'm pretty sure it's the only chapter that's actually straight up rape.

Papyrus sat with his legs curled against his chest, his arms holding his knees tight and close. Flowey bobbed from side to side jovially beside him. He hadn’t said anything since Papyrus had blurted out his confession. Flowey kept telling him that he could tell him anything. They were best friends! They shouldn’t have any secrets between them! Papyrus kept this particular secret locked away for a long time. But Flowey’s insistence was making him feel guilty. 

Papyrus only really had two friends, one of which was his boss. He could feel the pity and see through every lie she told. So, if he thought himself into a corner, then Flowey was his only real friend that spent time with him from the pure enjoyment of it. Was their friendship a lie if Papyrus didn’t tell him all of his secrets? Even the one he kept locked away from even himself?

He blurted it out without thinking and was now waiting for Flowey to respond. Was he going to be disgusted? Was he going to abandon Papyrus for having thoughts he didn’t even like? Was he really going to accept his secret with no questions?

“That’s a pretty sticky secret, Papyrus,” Flowey finally said. “But I’m glad you shared it with me! Because I have a solution to your problem!” 

Papyrus perked up. “You... You know how to help me with my... attraction?” Flowey scoffed and winked. 

“Of course, I do! But It’s a secret, so I have to whisper to you!”

Papyrus didn’t question it. He unfolded from his perch and bent down so his skull was right next to the face of the flower. He turned so he could hear every sweet savory word of the answer to his problem. But Flowey didn’t tell him anything. Instead, he ruffled his petals and leaves, filling the air around him with his pollen, clogging Papyrus’s nasal cavity and making his vision go blurry. 

The energy moved faster in his skull than he could follow. A fog filled him, masking his thoughts and shrinking his consciousness to a point where he couldn’t recognize himself. His magic spurred and crackled inside him like a forming storm cloud.

Just before he lost himself entirely, Flowey whispered, “This is why you tell your friends your problems.”

Sans was nodding off at his sentry station, head in his arms and nuzzling his forehead into the soft fabric of his hoodie’s sleeves. He had missed his early morning nap and his late morning nap, so he was taking an early early afternoon nap. But he couldn’t quite get himself mentally to where he needed to be to sleep. 

He wasn’t sure why, but there was something in the air. Something that was making his bones feel on edge. 

He easily perked up when he heard snow crunching. He glanced down the walkway and saw his brother approaching from Snowdin. He didn’t have the usual strut that he had when he was coming to whip Sans into shape. His feet were actually dragging a bit. 

“Papyrus?” he called. His brother stopped in his tracks. His head had been down, staring at the snow he walked on, and now he looked up. Sans noticed the orange glow in his sockets immediately. He furrowed his brow. “Pap, you okay?” Papyrus started marching, his pace brisk and unnerving. Sans clenched his fists as Papyrus got closer and closer. “Somethin’ wrong, bro?” Papyrus walked around and behind the sentry station, standing behind Sans before lifting him by his arm pits, turning him, and sitting him down on the station counter. His fingers were strong, hurting Sans’s ribs as he maneuvered him. “Bro, what’s – mmph!” Papyrus kissed him.

He couldn’t help but panic at the slamming, forceful contact. He shoved his tongue down his throat, licking the roof of his mouth and drawing Sans’s magic to form a tongue of his own. “Mm! Mm, nnn – Pap!” He pushed against his brother’s chest, desperate to get him away. 

Papyrus pressed forcefully against him, his large frame dominating the interaction and crushing Sans’s protesting hands between their rib cages as he stood in the crook his spread legs. A gloved hand held the back of his skull as another violently reached for and tore at his shorts. Sans grunted and expressed muffled protests, desperate for Papyrus to listen. But he wouldn’t let him go. He just held him tighter. 

He bit the tongue that was trying to suffocate him. It was ecto-flesh, so the bite wasn’t going to do any permanent damage, but it would hurt enough to make him let go. 

Papyrus did scream, yelling into Sans before pulling out of the kiss, holding his tongue in his mouth and wincing in pain. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sans nearly yelled. Papyrus’s answer was to take his protesting hands in one of his own and slam them down above his head, forcing Sans to lay on the counter. “What are you doing?”

The Papyrus he knew was talkative. He was a skeleton that jumped to answer every question and help with any problem. But this... This wasn’t his brother. 

This Papyrus’s face was wrong. Sockets that were usually without lights were glowing brightly with two searing flames in them. They were larger than was healthy, his magic raging inside like an active volcano that was ready to erupt. Sans didn’t know what was wrong, but something was fucking with his brother’s soul. “Papyrus, did you take something? Did someone make you – hah!” This Papyrus kept staring at Sans’s face, acutely checking for any changes in reaction as he touched and fondled his pelvis. Warm fingers stroked the rim of his pelvic cradle before pinching his tailbone and stroking his pubis aggressively. 

Sans’s body reacted without permission. He didn’t want to summon anything. He didn’t want any part of this. But his magic wasn’t listening. Like a dog hearing its name, his magic flowed to his pelvis and started forming. It found its shape and manifested around his brother’s slender fingers. He cried outwardly at the repulsion, of his vagina eagerly clenching around bones that had no right to be down there. 

“Papyrus, stop!” He begged. He kicked his feet and violently shook his wrists, doing everything in his power to try and escape, to shake his brother loose. His brother’s grip was tight as steel around his wrists, and those oddly lifeless eye lights burned down at him. He pleaded to that stoney face, hoping that maybe his brother could see through those blindingly bright lights. “Please, Pap. Please, let me go. Please, just fuckin’ stop!”

The fingers left him. Sans couldn’t hide the smile that came to him, relieved. Papyrus had heard him. 

But then he heard the belt. 

He lifted his head, looking to their crotches in panic. With the hand that wasn’t pinning his wrists, Papyrus was thumbing loose the yellow belt on the bottom of his battle body.

He wasn’t stopping. He was continuing. 

Sans bent one of his legs up as high as he could before pressing his foot against Papyrus’s spine and pushing it. He pressed as hard as he could, trying to knock his brother back. But Papyrus batted it away easily, some unnatural power taking him over and making him not care about his strength and if it hurt Sans. Which it did. His ankle ached at the impact. 

It didn’t stop him from repeating the action. Papyrus struggled with his hold as Sans kicked him everywhere he could. He wasn’t just hitting easily healed ecto-flesh, he was kicking every part of Papyrus he could reach. The battle body was hard against his slippers, but the spine did start to bend. 

He stopped his process of removing the bottom of his battle body. Good idea. As soon as he showed his summoned ecto-dick, Sans was reading to stomp the shit out of it.

Papyrus pulled his scarf off his neck and pulled Sans up to a sit. He mechanically tied Sans’s arms together behind his back, barely watching his hands as he did so. Sans fought, trying to scoot back and headbutt Papyrus. But he kept avoiding the hits and holding him close. He gave the scarf a final tight tug before pushing Sans back down to lay on the counter, his arms now uncomfortably bound between his back and the wood. Without having to hold his hands, Papyrus could hold his ankles together behind his back, affectively taking away Sans’s defense. 

His brother got back to removing his belt, finally freeing his orange cock. It was large and already hard, and he wasted no time in pressing the tip of it against Sans’s lips. 

It was the first expression his wooden face showed. His sockets fluttered and his mouth gaped in pleasure as he moaned. 

Sans didn’t want to do it. He really didn’t. He had done everything in his power to get Papyrus off of him, but none of it worked. This wasn’t his brother. He should feel no shame in defending himself. He felt his magic rise, burning his socket as he summoned the Gaster Blaster in front of the stand. He readied it to blast as Papyrus slid deep inside him. 

“Oh – oh, Sans.” The voice called him from his anger. The fire in Papyrus’s sockets was dying as he leant over Sans, nuzzling against his neck. “You feel so good. Oh, oh, brother. Finally.” Sans’s stomach turned. He clenched his eyes shut, letting his blaster dissipate as tears streamed down his skull. 

This was his brother. This was still his brother. Anything he did... He couldn’t hurt Papyrus. 

So, he lay there. He felt his brother’s cock thrust in and out of him. It was rough, rocking Sans’s whole body with every movement. Papyrus, slightly out of his robotic state, was kissing Sans’s neck and singing sweet praisess in a voice that was sickeningly his own. Every word proved to him that this was undoubtedly his little brother. He may have been entranced or cursed or under some sort of disgusting spell, but it was still Papyrus. His Papyrus. His little brother that, by the twitch of his magic, was thoroughly enjoying fucking Sans. 

He tried to go somewhere else. Think about something else. Anything else.

Sans could have counted the seconds to find out how long Papyrus raped him. But he refused to. He didn’t want to know. If he didn’t count out the long minutes, he could pretend it lasted ten seconds and no more. He could pretend. He had to pretend to live with himself. 

Finally, he felt Papyrus release in him. His whole body shook and sputtered over him, and he held Sans still in that position for a painfully long amount of time. Papyrus lifted his head from Sans’s shoulder, and his brother watched in horror as the orange burning eye lights shrunk and shrunk until his sockets became familiar again. Like waking up from a dream, Papyrus blinked and furrowed his brow. “Wh-What... Where am...” His sockets landed on Sans, looking amess with his tear-stained cheeks and empty sockets. “Sans? What – OH DEAR LORD.” He ripped himself from Sans, jumping away and pulling himself out simultaneously with such vigor that he knocked himself back onto the pile of snow behind the station. The sudden ejection, despite how relieved Sans was for the separation, ripped at his tissue and made him grown in pain. 

It took him a long moment to get over the shock to his system. Eventually, Sans wiggled and rocked to a sit, leaning forward to make room for the hands behind his back. 

Papyrus looked mortified, sitting on the snow poff, a hand on his chest and the bottom of his battle body still open. Thankfully his ecto-flesh had dissipated. At least he wasn’t turned on anymore. Sans could feel his own brutalized cunt disappear. He wondered what Papyrus thought when he looked at him, battered and tear-stained and partially tied up. Whatever he saw, he seemed horrified by his gaped jaw and wide sockets. “S-Sans?” The tone of a little brother begging his big brother for explanation. Sans had none to offer. 

“Can ya untie me bro?” he asked. Papyrus frantically came to a stand, sloppily fixing his belt as he came to Sans and urgently untied him. Sans could hear fabric tear and his wrists breathed with the absence of pressure. He brought his hands in front of him and fixed his pants as best he could, and then rubbed the sore areas on his wrists. 

“Wh-What did I do, Sans?” Like a kicked puppy. Like he was the one that had been hideously violated. Maybe he had been though. Maybe someone had forced that spell on him. Maybe it was someone else’s sick fantasy and not his own. Maybe. Maybe... “I-I’m sorry, brother.” He started shaking and trembling. His bones rattled and he covered his face in shame. “I didn’t... I didn’t want – I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry!”

Sans turned to meet his brother and was reminded of the times he accidentally broke plates while putting them away in the cupboard. He was just his little brother. His little brother that had hurt him without meaning to – without even seeming to know what he did – and begging for forgiveness. 

He was still his brother. 

Sans pulled Papyrus close to him, taking him in for a hug and rubbing the back of his head as he cried into his shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay, bro. I know you didn’t mean to. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. It was the opposite of okay. But he couldn’t show that. Had he acted how he really felt... Had he thrown insults and accusations, been horrified, told Papyrus how sickened he was, how disgusted and disappointed and mortified he was by what his brother had done, how he hadn’t done everything in his power to stop it because he felt shreds of sentimentality for a monster who violated him so terribly... it would ruin Papyrus. And the guilt seemed to be punishing enough, at least for now. 

So, he soothed him. He took care of him and teleported them both home. They took separate showers, talked about what had happened despite how disgusting it was and how it made them both cry. They talked about what happened beforehand. Papyrus confessed that he had harbored romantic feelings for Sans. The older brother nearly threw up, but then Papyrus assured him that it was just curiosity, because now he never wanted to touch him again. 

Sans was sympathetic to the invasive thoughts. He chose to believe that was really truth, and didn’t even humor the prospect that that was a lie to cover his ass and comfort Sans into thinking something like this wouldn’t happen again. 

And then he mentioned the fucking flower. He told Papyrus it was okay. That he should just get some rest and promised he wasn’t mad. 

And then we went out that night, going out to destroy the plant that turned his brother into a complete demon.


	28. Day 28: Incest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Incest (blatant)  
Pairing: Fellcest
> 
> The concluding to the fellcest relationship (last installment Ch. 20). The brothers finally come to a mutual understanding and acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Red had been slowly coming to terms with his growing feelings for his brother. It had all started with horrified disgust. Then sickening curiosity. Despite every moral and ethical implication that tried to protect and guide him, he couldn’t help but enjoy his unclean thoughts about his brother. 

And then Boss solicited him as Cherry. And he let his identity slip. And his brother kept fucking him anyway. And then he came back again the next week, and the next and the next. 

And the whole time, they didn’t acknowledge their true relationship. It was the only way Red could really live with himself. Incest didn’t feel as disgusting when he pretended that they weren’t related. But pretending didn’t hide the fact that he knew Boss was his one regular, or how he got off thinking about how his brother was paying hundreds of dollars to fuck him. It excited him and had made his morbid curiosity evolve into genuine sexual and borderline romantic attraction to his brother. And, everyday, he pretended he didn’t feel this desire pump through his bones every time he saw Boss. 

Today was no different. He came home cleaned up and back in his regular persona after his shift, and felt his soul nearly explode in affection when he saw Boss reading on the couch. He sauntered over, falling down on the cusions and kicking his feet onto his brother’s lap – a normal gesture that gave him an abnormal spike of excitement. “Whatcha readin’ nerd?”

Boss folded his book, hiding the cover with his large gloved hand as he turned to glare at Red. He hadn’t been prepared for the intensity of the stare. He couldn’t help but stiffen. “Everything good, boss?”

“I want you to quit your job,” his brother declared. 

Red knew what he was really talking about – the brothel. But if he really meant that then he would be acknowledging Red’s double-life. So, Red chose to believe Boss was referring to his public side gig. “’ve been running the stand for years and now ya got a problem with it?” He pulled his legs off Boss’s lap, trying to re-establish their distance. 

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He did. But this conversation scared him. So, he opted to ignore the obvious. “Don’t know what other job ya could be talkin’ bout then.” Boss breathed through his frustration. He put the book on the coffee table slowly as he carefully moderated his voice. 

“Sans, I would greatly appreciate your cooperation right now.” It was a rather genuine sounding plea. Red had to give his brother credit. And, along with the credit, he could give him the conversation he seemed to want to have. 

“Why d’ya want me to quit?” He didn’t acknowledge the job. He didn’t acknowledge what he and Boss had done on the clock. But he acknowledged his brother’s demand.

“I don’t want anyone else touching you,” he stated matter-of-factly. The boldness of his words couldn’t help but make Red’s magic spike with adrenaline. 

“Why?” he dared to ask.

“Because I’m tired.” Boss shifted on the couch so he was facing Red. “I’m tired of ignoring this.” He crawled forward. Red brought his legs to his chest. “I’m tired of pretending I’m not bothered by your profession.” Boss put both legs on the couch, his glove hands moving ever closer. “I’m tired of Cherry.” His hands were on either side of Red now. “I’m tired of spending all of my money.” Red tried to shrink and hide from Boss’s intense stare, one fueled by desire. “And I’m tired of hiding how I feel.” He leant his skull down, hovering it inches away from Red’s face. “And I know you’re tired, too.”

Red was, in a way. Juggling two different relationships with his brother was a little emotionally exhausting, but it felt entirely necessary. If they let those relationships converge... he couldn’t mentally handle what that would entail. The mere thought of it paralyzed him in fear just as this intense attention did. 

“Sans.”

“’m mostly scared.” The words slid out of him like a white-hot iron rod. They hurt to say and he was horrified by admitting this vulnerability. The comfort and security of the surface hadn’t stripped him of his wariness from the underground, or the need to hide his fear. But Boss’s attention was cracking his hull of protection, and the words came out almost without his permission. Thankfully, his truth lessened his brother’s intensity. But the silence was still heavy and squeezed an explanation from him. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen if... if we do this.” He shook his head, his body shaking in nervous discomfort. This conversation felt like he was staring over the edge of a cliff to a certain death below. “It’ wrong, bro, it’s so fuckin’ wrong. It’s not normal or okay and at Muffet’s we can at least pretend we’re not really doing this sick shit.” 

“I know,” Boss muttered. Red jumped when one of his brother’s leather gloved fingers caressed his cheek. “I don’t know what the right thing to do is, either.” He leant forward, pressing their foreheads together. “But I know what I want to do.” Boss was breathing him in, Red could feel it. “What do you want?”

Red shook his head against his brother’s, his sockets clenching at how challenging it was to think and speak in this moment. He knew the answer to his brother’s question, but he hated it. What he wanted wasn’t right. It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t moral and it wasn’t safe and he didn’t like acknowledging it. But Boss asked him a direct question, so...

“I want you,” he finally said, his voice quiet and subdued and inaudible for anyone that wasn’t inches away from it’s origin. “Fuck, I just...” He let his sockets open to meet Boss’s. The oppressive nature of his stare had left entirely, leaving behind pure and unadulterated affection – a very foreign expression on Boss’s ordinarily rigid and harsh face.

“I want you, too.”

Red couldn’t help but look down at his brother’s slowly approaching mouth. 

Everything up to now had been in disguise. They’d been rough and explicit because Red was Cherry or Boss was hidden behind a wall. But this was brazenly them. There were no masks or facades or willing illusions. And with that authenticity came caution and fear. A probing slowness that was ready to be rejected at any time. 

They were both stiff when their mouths met, Boss unwaveringly hovering over him and Red frozen in acceptance. His brother was kissing him. He was kissing his brother. They weren’t hiding anything or pretending they were anyone but themselves. 

And nothing bad happened. 

Red wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Police bursting through their front door and arresting them for incest? His brother to yank away, take it all back, and kick Red out? Red feeling a sudden upheaving sense of disgust and having to reject his brother? The world to suddenly spontaneously combust at their societal taboo? 

But no, nothing happened. Boss pulled away slowly, the kiss ending and the assured safety settling into Red’s bones, allowing him to relax. He looked at his brother, watching his sockets realize and accept what they had really just done. He gently caressed the side of Red’s face. “Are you still scared?” 

Honestly, and surprisingly, he wasn’t. “No.” He stretched out under Boss, letting his joints and bones relax before he reached his hands up to hold his brother’s face in his hands. “You?”

Boss chuckled, pressing his face into Red’s shoulder. “No. I’m happy. I have wanted this for so long, Sans.” Red dared to move his hands to cradle his brother’s skull in his shoulder. “But I do not want to do this if you will continue receiving solicitations from others. And I can’t keep paying to see you.” He pulled his head back, again looking Red right in his sockets. “If you really want this – want me – then you must quit your job.”

Red only sold himself for sex to make some extra money – it was something to do that he didn’t mind doing. He didn’t need to. And he certainly wanted Boss more than he wanted to be a call monster. So, the ultimatum was easy for him to grapple with. He pulled himself up, bringing his face to his brother’s. “Consider it done.” Boss almost growled in satisfaction at his response before he closed the space between them again. 

This was nothing like the first kiss. That one had been careful and cautious. This kiss was nothing but victorious. Boss breathed him in, cradling Red’s back and holding him up against him. Their bodies fit together instinctually and habitually – except now they were against each other as the brothers they were, not the prostitute and solicitor they had pretended to be. He felt the familiar grind of his brother’s pelvis against his own, and he couldn’t help but hook his leg around Boss’s hips. He broke the kiss, giving him just enough space to speak. 

“You just gonna fuck me on the couch? That’s the plan?”

“Of course not,” Boss purred. He got up off the couch, carrying Red up with him. He wrapped his arms and legs around his bigger brother’s body, clinging like a koala as Boss cradled and carried him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. 

Red was rarely allowed in his brother’s room. Boss never let him in because he was trying to maintain some semblance of cleanliness and privacy. He didn’t really know what the bedroom ordinarily looked like, but he knew Boss had decorated for today. 

The room was lit up with red fairy lights that covered the ceiling and candles on the dresser, shelves, and beside table. Edge pressed Sans down onto the freshly cleaned sheets. It was still the same twin sized black painted race car bed, but it didn’t feel like he was laying on something so mundane. This was a sacred space, and he felt flattered to be there. “How’d ya know we’d end up here?” He teasingly asked. 

“Because I know you,” Boss said, “and I know how to get my way.”

Both of those things were very true. And they felt true as he pressed against Red in a kiss. The smaller skeleton melted under his brother, his bones heating with the pressure against his brother before deepening the kiss. 

This was more his style. Caution to the wind, strong gripping fingers, borderline aggressive groping that made Red moan and arch and grind. He let the thoughts he often tried to ignore go loose. Let himself feel his brother in every way that he had dreamed and fantasized of. 

Boss let him claw at his bones. He let him explore and thrust and press against him. Red felt Boss’s hands explore him too. Big, long fingers splaying out on his chest, unzipping his hoodie, playing with the fabric of his shirt before reaching up against his burning bare bones. He explored only a moment before pulling his hands away to take off his gloves and let their bones brush each other. 

Red’s breath hitched, Boss taking the opportunity to lick his tongue and teeth. Hands crawled up the inner walls or Red’s ribcage. Then the finger tips brushed against the surface of his soul. He gasped, the slight gentle sensation sending bolts of lightning through his marrow. Like plucking an apple, the hand came up, cupped the soul, and drew it out. Red’s sockets fluttered as he watched Boss lean back, holding the glowing bright soul in his hand. He brought it to his face and breathed it in, letting his nasal bridge brush against the magic. 

Red’s back arched away from the linens, the surface of his bones. His brother beamed above him. He leant forward again, resting his hand on one side of Red’s head so he could watch him squirm, pressing their magic filled hips together. 

“N-Ha!” Red’s crotch itched with heat as his brother ground down on him, slowly and with an intense pressure. He wriggled and thrusted up into him, watching the white thumb caress the side of his soul. “Papyrus!” he moaned without thinking. His brother’s foreign name came off his tongue easily. He hadn’t called his brother by his name to his face in years. Ever since he was little he called him “Boss”, because it was his way or the highway. 

But he wasn’t Boss. He was Papyrus. And in this authentic moment, where his brother held his very essence in the palm of his hand, Red couldn’t help but call him by his real name. He had a moment of fear that his brother would object to the lack of formality. 

Instead, his younger brother brought the soul to his mouth and let his long red tongue lick up its side. He could feel Boss’s soul pulse through his magical appendage, thrumming his soul to its core. “Hah-hai!”

“Keep saying my name, brother,” he purred, dipping his tongue in the indentation of Red’s soul. He gasped, clawing at the shirt he was still wearing, as if he could tear the fabric off to help his bones breath. The burning, cool tongue stroked his soul again, leaving a trail of cool fire behind it.

“Fuck, Papyrus.” He covered his clenched eye sockets, covering any extra stimulus as he felt pleasure rack through his bones. His brother hummed against Red’s soul, licking up to one of the mounds and sucking on it. “Nngh – fuuuh Papy!” The pelvis above him ground harder against him. His magic was forming. He could feel his member manifest and feel the butt hole that tensed with his arching spine. “Pa-Papyrus, yer so f-huckin’ good to me.” He peeked through his hands to look at his brother. 

Boss was thoroughly making out with Red’s soul. It was dripping with aroused magic, the red fluids running down the arm that held it, Boss unable to lap up all that he was creating. He was sitting up now, his face flushed with red magic, sockets closed in concentration, and a hand blindly fumbling with his belt. 

Red sat up to help. His hands shook from the pleasure his brother continued to provide, so it took him a bit longer to fully undo the belt and fly. His brother shuddered as his own cock manifested. The oh so familiar long red member, with its little bumps and fleshy hooks and the single piercing on the underside of the head. He reached a hand out, gently squeezing the cock and rolling the ball bearings under his thumb. Boss moaned against Red’s soul, both of their bones rattling at the motion. “Papy – my little fuckin’ Papyrus.”

Boss used his free hand to scoop up some of the thick soul magic that had dripped down his forearm. He played with the goo between his fingers. “Take your pants off, brother.” Red did as told, easily slipping off the basketball shorts and throwing them across the room. He lay back, giving his brother space to lean and reach. He felt his own hot magic against his puckered anus. He let out a breath and, in time with him, Boss slipped a lubed finger insidestill licking his soul to distract him. It was working. He was overstimulated, his body shaking and shuddering, rapidly changing from burning hot to freezing cold. 

When three fingers were inside him, he couldn’t take it anymore. He sat up, grabbed his soul in his own hands and shoved it back into his ribcage. Boss looked at him wide-eyed, an initial flash of anger dissipating to fear, thinking the worse of Red’s taking control. He leant up and kissed his brother, reassuring him that everything was fine. He just wanted to hear the sweet sounds his own brother could make. 

Distracting him with a kiss and grinding on his fingers, Red moved his hands under his brother’s battle body, feeling the heat of the soul inside long before he grabbed it in his hands. Papyrus froze around him, his breath hitching at the contact. “It’s my turn, bro.” He gently pulled the soul out from its protective cage. 

He’d healed it once before when they were young, otherwise this was the first time he had seen it. It was warm like a shirt from the dryer. Slight pressure from his fingers milked out liquid magic like suds came out of a gently squeezed sponge. He wasted no time in bringing the soul to his mouth and licking some of the liquid off with his tongue. 

It was Papyrus. He never knew what his brother tasted like, but this was so unabashedly and purely Boss – painfully and indescribably him. Tasting the fluids brought back floods of memories from their childhood, of their father, of his brother’s long lasting and guilty desires. “You’ve been holdin’ back on me, Papyrus.” He purred the name, letting his voice vibrate against the soul. His brother nodded, eyes clenched desperately before he gently pushed Red back onto the bed. He watched his younger brother shift their hips before finally and ultimately slipping his pierced and sublimely formed cock into his prepped magic. 

The filling pressure was oh so satisfying. As a reward, he suckled on the pointed bottom of the soul. 

“Nnnyeh,” he groaned, slowly rolling his hips. The initial thrusts were uncomfortable, and Red distracted himself by teasing the soul. Licking and sucking and finally pressing his sharp teeth feather lightly against the flesh. His brother moaned, punctuated with an extra deep thrust before he established a steady rhythm. 

His brother breathed deeply above him, gasping and closing his eyes, his face beat red from the sensations. Red just got to lay back and watch, mewling with every thrust and letting his tongue drunkenly pleasure his brother’s soul. The stronger he sucked, the faster his brother’s thrusts. His cock felt so strong and solid inside him, fitting perfectly, their magic mixing melodically, creating a deeper color of Red that was just so incredibly them. 

It was something Red never knew he wanted. But, now that he had it, he never wanted to have his life any other way. His favorite person was his brother. His favorite smell was his brother’s. And his favorite flavor was pure, unadulterated Papyrus. 

He bit into the soul mindlessly, wanting more of the delicious taste and another wave of desire. Papyrus went quiet above him, holding his breath as his whole body trembled, his magic spurting inside of Red’s. The soul shook and pulsed and oozed with fluid as his brother came. He gladly swallowed all the soul had to offer. 

His brother came to before Red noticed, taking his soul back before gripping the older brother’s member in his hand. He spoke against the side of his head as he jacked him, his warm, lubed bones pleasuring him perfectly. “First time I’ve held your dick, brother. I must say, it fits well in my hand, yes it does.” Red moaned, the words thick in his skull, heightening his magic ever further. “Although, it’s lacking unique characteristic. Perhaps...” He brushed his thumb on his frenum, on that little bit of skin on the underside of his head. “I ought to make us match.”

The mere suggestion brought Red over the edge. His muscles clenched around his brother’s cock, milking a little bit more pleasure from him as his own dick came on their shirts between them. Boss didn’t pull away or make a fuss though.

Instead, he took Red’s mouth in his own and kissed him, rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb, milking him through his own orgasm. 

When he finally caught his breath, his brother slowed their kiss to a halt, and then he pulled away to look down at him. Red gladly absorbed the view of his younger brother. His white bones were still flushed. A slight red glow emanated from inside his skull, gently staining the curves of his eye sockets and scars. His smile was pleased, the corners curled up and content. Red couldn’t help but smile back, completely spent and yet ready for more. 

He brought a clean hand up to cup his brother’s face. Boss covered his hand with his own. 

He could live in this moment forever. 

His brother didn’t feel the same need, apparently. He eventually sat straight and pulled out of Red. He took off his dirtied shirt and then his pants. The older brother gladly drank in the view of his heated, gangly bones. 

“Now what, bro?” Red asked.

“First, you’re going to take off your shirt,” he said, crawling back onto the bed and over Red, using his hands to push the coat off his shoulders. “And then, we are going to screw like rabbits.”

Red smiled. “How is that different from what we just did?” It was a teasing question. He expected it to knock his brother a bit off his game. Instead, Boss leant their faces close together, letting his breath brush against Red’s skull. 

“This time, I’m not going to be gentle.”

The prospect sent a shot of excitement through Red. He ripped off his coat and shirt in record time, ready to take anything more that his brother was willing to give. 

His brother. He was having consensual, mutual relations with his brother. He was a dirty brother fucker. 

And he wouldn’t have had it any other way.


	29. Day 29: Micro/Macro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Micro/Macro  
Pairing: Kustard
> 
> A sequel to Day 21. A second try with the machine goes just as wrong as its maiden voyage, and Sans takes advantage of the situation.

It took nearly two weeks for the effects of their previous experiment to wear off. Sans woke up in a cold sweat, went to the bathroom so he could have his conniption in peace, and had a painful transformation back to his normal size. His shirt hung from his bones like a curtain. Relieved, he went back to bed. 

Once back to his normal size, they started working on the machine again. When they finished, Sans was going to put on the goggles, but Red swiped them from his hand. 

“Nope, you’re not goin’ back in there,” he said. 

“We gotta test it on somethin’, babe.”

“I know.” He watched Red stretch the elastic and put the goggles around his skull. “I’ve got a few more hit points to spare, so Imma be the guinea pig.”

Sans crossed his arms. “Or you just want to turn into a giant the next time this thing goes haywire.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He put the goggles over his eyes and walked into the chamber of the machine. Sans stopped him before he closed the door and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“See ya on the other side.”

“Count on it, sweetheart.” Red winked before closing the metal door. Sans turned the machine on. He saw Red’s soul on the monitor, his slightly higher stats flashing beside the image. He moved the dials and switches as they had planned. The machine worked quietly, the image of the soul staying consistent on the screen. And, to Sans’s satisfaction, the numbers started going up. His six HP slowly ticked up to a ten, then a fifteen. 

Around twenty the machine started to smoke. 

Saving no time and holding back his panic, he immediately went to the back of the machine and pulled the plug. Again, part of their preplanned protocol. He walked to the door and pulled on the handle. They had fixed the latch so that it opened easily when either of them turned the knob from the inside or outside. 

He swung the door open, the expected cloud of smoke billowed out of the chamber and, to his confusion, his boyfriend wasn’t inside the machine. 

He furrowed his brow, craned his neck in and checked the walls and corners. “Babe?”

“Down here.” He followed the voice and looked down. Near his feet, poking his head out of his pile of clothes and the fur lined parka, was his boyfriend. His very very tiny, slightly high-pitched boyfriend. “I’m starting to think we’re a couple of dumbasses.” He was so small, the size of a large hamster. His eye lights glowed bright and he seemed utterly perterbed, and he was god-damn adorable. Sans couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before him. “It’s not funny!”

“You’re right,” Sans said, squatting down to be closer to his boyfriend. “It’s fucking hilarious.” He reached his hands into the pile, cupping Red in one palm and grabbing the pile of clothes with the other. With everything collected, he teleported them to their bedroom. It felt no different than when he teleported on his own. 

He threw Red’s clothes into a hamper and threw his parka on a nearby chair. All the while, Red sat curled up in his hand, using one arm to cover his bare bones and the other to hang onto Sans’s thumb for dear life. “’M not gonna drop ya.”

“Not on purpose,” Red mumbled. His sockets were clenched shut and Sans could feel him shake in fear against his palm. Sans cupped him in both hands, giving him a larger, more stable surface to rest on. Red seemed to relax a little, but he still had his tiny arm tightly wrapped around Sans’s finger. “This is so unfair. You go into the machine and turn into a sexy giant! I go in and turn into a fucking imp!”

“A very adorable imp,” Sans said.

“I ain’t adorable!” he growled. “Now stop standin’ ‘round doin’ nothin’ and find me some clothes!”

“Mm... I don’t think I will,” Sans hummed, enjoying his position of power. The had a little fun the last time their machine screwed up, surely they could have a little more. He moved to sit on the bed. He scooted back and folded his legs up. 

“Sweetheart, please, I’m freezin’ over here.”

“I can help with that.” He leant closer to the tiny skeleton in his hands. 

“Yeah, by gettin’ me somethin’ to wear!” 

“Or...”

“Or?”

Sans smiled widely, connivingly. He moved his hands, cupping Red ever more and using his thumbs to stroke up and down his bones. He used little pressure, not wanting to crush his boyfriend, but trying to warm him with contact alone. He let his magic pulse through his hands and into Red, his boyfriend trembling at the contact. “Better?” he asked. 

Red pouted, his face glowing his namesake. “A little.” He let his magic pulse a little stronger as he pressed his thumb against the tiny sternum, stroking it lightly before moving his thumb down to his spine and gently prodding it in his rib cage. Red groaned, instinctually arching at the contact. Sans couldn’t help but smile, stroking his spine gently. “Y-You’re teasin’ me.”

“What if I am?” He asked, rolling Red into the palm of one hand so he could focus on touching him with his other. He stroked him gently with his thumb and brought his pointer to touch Red’s tiny cheek. “What are you gonna do about it?” Red turned his head, nuzzling against the figure against his cheek, kissing it gently before licking the tip of it and then biting the bone. 

It was a slight pinch. Nothing more. 

Red seemed to realize that and groaned. “I guess nothing.” Sans stroked Red’s chin, making him whimper before bringing him to his mouth and letting his tongue lick out, covering the entirety of his pelvis. “Ff-hoowa, sweetheart.” His let his tongue move again. He could feel his boyfriend’s magic forming against his mouth. Red’s legs twitched and bent, closing around the tongue between his legs. It was a light squeeze, one that Sans hummed into. “Nnn-g-god dammit, Sans.”

“What? Do you not like it?” he asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Stop asking stupid questions.” Sans pulled his tongue back so he could properly see Red. His legs were spread, red magic formed in his crotch. He kept a tight grip on Sans’s thumb and held onto the pointer finger that stroked his cheek. He may have been small, but still had a roaring and presently enhanced source of magic that made his joints glow, his eye lights steam, and his whole-body heat and warm Sans’s hands. 

He gently shook Red’s grip from his pointer finger and pulled his thumb out from the ribcage. Red moaned hungrily at the absence of contact. He quickly answered the thirst when he put his pointer against his pelvis. “Haaa!” He sighed into it, letting Sans stroke him. Unfortunately, his hand was to big to really form the poll of magic. So, again, he pulled away. “Fuckin’ come on.” The desperation was thick in his voice. 

“Form yourself, then I’ll treat you right,” he promised. 

“You’re full of shit.” He pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Fine.” 

He cupped Red in both of his hands, sat back, and watched as his boyfriend bring a tiny hand down to his crotch. The magic reached up to meet him. He moaned at his own touch, stroking himself and pressing two fingers into the pool, easily forming his pussy. Sans watched him start to rub his thumb on his clit, and he couldn’t have that quite yet. 

He easily used a finger to push Red’s hand away. “You won’t let me have any fun,” he complained. 

“Not without me.” He brought his mouth back down to Red’s tiny pelvis. He urged his tongue to change shape just a bit, so that the tip was smaller, able to enter his tiny cunt and feel the magic stretch around him. Red mewled and moaned as Sans stuck his tongue deeper and deeper, stretching the magic around him until he could feel the tight constraints of Red’s ribcage against the tip of his tongue through the sock that was Red’s cunt. The sound that filled the room was the heavy breathing and whimpering of his boyfriend. 

He tensed his tongue, flicking the tip in its little pocket before opening his mouth and taking Red’s pelvis between his teeth, his legs bent upward and out of the way. And then he sucked, the chamber of his mouth pulling against the magic flesh. He bent his tongue to stimulate the head of his clitoris. 

The stretched cunt squeezed as best it could around the massive tongue inside it, creating an interesting sensation for Sans. He wasn’t doing this to get off. He didn’t expect to. No, he just enjoyed satiating his curiosity, bringing his boyfriend pleasure in a new way he’d never tried before. 

He rolled his tongue and sucked the pelvis, feeling the soles of Red’s feet against his cheeks and the toes curl in stimulus. 

“Oh – ho – nnha!” He felt the pelvis tremble, the magic squeeze and shake. Through the orgasm, Sans gently rolled his tongue out of Red’s pussy, eventually pulling out and letting his underside go. Red lay in his hands, his red magic mixing with Sans’s blue saliva and making a messy purple stain on Sans’s palms. 

His boyfriend kept his head to the side, his tiny rib cage heaving with his breath before his ecto-genitalia dissipated. Sans watched him catch his breath, enjoying the view and appreciating how he cupped him, still comfortingly stroking his thumbs against the exhausted skeleton. 

Red finally came to with a shudder that made his bones rattle. He turned on his side and hugged himself, shivering from the sudden lack of contact and stimulus. 

Sans cradled him in one hand, standing and going to the bathroom. He made the sink water run warm, closed the drain, and let it fill just enough so he could put his boyfriend in like it was a warm bath. Red sighed into the water. Content with his position, Sans teleported back to their bedroom, found a sock that didn’t have a match, and a pair of scissors. He cut the fabric, making an impromptu dress of it before teleporting back to the bathroom. 

Red was relaxing in the water, his sockets open. He smiled when he saw Sans. 

“How come, every time we try this, I end up getting stretched beyond belief?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Your plan stunk by the way,” he said. “Ya didn’t warm me up. I’m still freezing.” His smile and the steaming water contradicted his words. “But that’s just a little issue, so I’ll let it slide.” Well, he was in good enough spirits to joke about his stature. Sans leant on the counter, bringing one hand into the sink around Red. It was as close as they could get to Sans putting his arm around Red’s shoulders. The water was toasty and comfortable, warming Sans’s hand easily. The little skeleton gladly hugged his boyfriend’s finger. Sans sent familiar pulses of magic, adding an extra level of warmth into Red’s bones. He sighed into it. 

They took him out of the bath. The sock dress fit awkwardly. Sans kept Red in the crook of his neck, locked in the folds of his hood, for the entirety of the two weeks it took for the effects of the machine to wear off. The poor little skeleton seemed to be perpetually freezing, except in the moments of orgasm when his magic boiled through him.

Sans was ready to help warm him up in any way he could whenever Red asked. He was ready with blankets, space heaters, pulses of magic and pocket warmers. But, more often than not, his boyfriend asked for him to pleasure him until he was warm.

And Sans was more than happy to oblige.


	30. Day 30: Degradation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Degradation  
Pairing: DancesWithWolves (dt!sans/fs!papyrus)
> 
> The final chapter of this nameless ship.   
Sansy quits his relationship with Mutt, that is until he bumps into him again. He sees it as an opportunity to truly express his frustration with his inactive partner. Mutt sees it as an opportunity for something else.

Sansy cut himself off. His dreams were getting excessive, his feelings getting too gooey and real. He deleted Mutt’s number from his phone and went about his life. He went to different bars and clubs, hoping not to run into his previous booty call. Not that Mutt would care. He never texted first. He never initiated anything, for that matter. So why would he?

Sansy certainly tried not to. 

That was until his phone buzzed with a text from a number his phone didn’t recognize. It commanded him to meet at their bar. Sansy’s soul spiked with energy and he had half a mind to go. 

But he refused. He deserved better than someone that didn’t acknowledge him in any meaningful way. He deserved better than booty calls and wet dreams. So, he didn’t text back, and he didn’t meet Mutt. 

Six months later, he had nearly forgotten about his fling. So much so that he went back to that bar when his favorite local band was playing. He teleported over, ordered a few drinks, and clung to the wall. He wanted to get into the mosh and dance with the best of them, but he wanted to be drunker first. So, he tapped his foot until he was thoroughly buzzed before finally joining the fray. He kicked his feet, spun on his back, pulled his shirt and popped his joints, hopping over his feet and flipping over his head. The crowd made space for him, making him the center of attention. He swam in the spotlight, dancing to make the people scream and record him. He danced to the end of the song, breathless and practically taking a bow. 

At the end of his dance the band started playing a smoother, slower jazz song, one that didn’t match his usual jumpy movements. No, this was practically a slow dance. The people in the pit paired up in twos or threes, holding each other tight and grinding their hips. And, to his pleasure, one of the guys that had been watching him took Sansy in his arms. He could work with this. 

Like a dance at a medieval spring festival, the crowd changed partners. Rhythmically, his partner would leave and be replaced by another. It was a different kind of dance, but one he was glad to participate in. He got to hold and fondle and grind with strangers and be touched back in return. It was anonymous and affectionate, and he was in ecstasy. 

And then a familiar pair of hands gripped his hips. He’d recognize those slender fingers and how they pressed against worn divots in his pelvis anywhere. His hips remembered, grinding back into his partner without his conscious permission – whether from pure muscle memory or because he was too tipsy to hold back. He let his hands reach back and feel the familiar fabric of the jacket. His partner leant down and let Sansy breathe him in. 

It was like a drug. He’d cut himself off. It had been hard, but he had moved on. And now, one whiff, one touch and that addictive feeling came back to him. He hungrily spun in his partner’s arms, looking up at his long-lost lover. 

Mutt looked no different. Sansy felt all of his old desperate feelings come back. His want for something more, something deeper... his fantasies of being all this skeleton wanted. 

He was fucking pathetic. He desperately ground his hips and pulled on Mutt’s coat, shamefully leaning up to meet him in a kiss and moaning into it, arching hungrily. His partner met his eagerness, clawing at his hips and cupping his face, tonguing him shamelessly in the crowd of party goers. 

And then his teeth scraped against the side of his skull. “Miss me, angel?” Sansy nodded against him, nuzzling into his neck and standing on his toes, melting against Mutt’s warmth. “Wanna take me somewhere? Tell me where ya been?” He nodded again. He wanted to take Mutt somewhere. But he wasn’t going to bring him home. No, he may have been starving, but he wasn’t going to commit to that yet. 

Sansy teleported them to a nearby motel – Mutt didn’t deserve to be in his bed again. He didn’t know that though and seemed surprised by their location. “Ya wanna catch up?” Sansy pressed. “Then you’re paying.”

He half expected Mutt to leave. But no. He let Sansy go and walked to the counter. The dancer stood outside, watching Mutt talk to the receptionist through the window, holding himself and itching his arms in his need for contact. 

Mutt came out with a key in his hand. He held Sansy’s back and legs, scooping the smaller skeleton up in his arms and marching them to their motel room. Once inside, he closed the door and put Sansy on the bed. 

He had known better. He had had control. But all of that was gone now. Mutt’s kiss eroded it all away, bringing Sansy back to that pining lovesick bastard that wanted the scar on his shoulder to mean something more than a fuck buddy. He could feel the shift in his bones, in the way he pulled on Mutt’s coat and desperately kissed him, and in how he whimpered when he pulled away. 

“Ya left me hangin’, angel.” He did. He’d essentially ghosted him. And, when his vision unclouded so he could really see the skeleton above him and the apparent hurt in his eye sockets. “Why’d ya leave me like that?”

Oh, this hands-off booty caller suddenly had feelings. He answered honestly, “I was better off without you.” He watched the hurt crack through his sockets. He tried not to let that tug at his soul. “You never treated me right. You never really wanted me. I was just something for you to fuck and toss aside.” He leant up from his position on the bed, propping up on elbows. “And I deserve better than that.” It was a proud declaration. Mutt actually seemed taken aback, absorbing his scathing words.

“So, what are you doing here with me now?”

“Consider it a relapse,” he spat. Tired of not being touched, he grabbed Mutt’s jacket and pulled him into another kiss. He was rough. He wasn’t expecting anything from tonight – nothing more than just a final bout of pleasure and then he’d really be done. So, he wasn’t afraid to hurt Mutt’s feelings. He slammed their teeth and yanked him around, determined to get what he wanted from this interaction, to satisfy all of his needs one final time. 

Mutt let him. He let Sansy manipulate him, turn them over and shove him on the funky smelling motel bed. Sansy noticed his lack of effort. “You’re not even gonna fuckin’ try?” Now Mutt propped himself on his elbows. 

“I want ta talk to ya,” he said.

Sansy actually laughed. “Shit, you’re serious?” He hopped off the bed. “I don’t wanna talk. Heck, I didn’t even want to see you. You’re the one that groped me.”

“Yeah, then you kissed me!” Mutt sat up. Sansy scoffed.

“Only cause you’re addictive as all shit.” He moved to the door. 

“No.” Mutt scrambled off the bed and stood in front of the door, arms out, blocking his way out. “No, I’m not gonna let ya leave me again.”

“Oh, can’t find anyone else to sleep with you? Am I your last hope?”

That hurt flashed in his sockets again. “I can tell ya got a lot of... of pent up energy in ya.” Sansy rolled his eyes at the obvious. “And yer clearly here for one last go, I get that. Just... Just humor me, okay? We’ll fuck, I’ll treat ya real right, do what ya want. You can let it all out.” Sansy crossed his arms, not minding the proposition but listening for the catch. “Call me every bad name in the book, if ya want. Then, if ya still wanna leave, you can.”

“Doesn’t leave a lot of talking time for you,” Sansy said. 

“It’ll be enough. Then we can leave and never talk to each other again... if that’s what ya choose.”

He looked Mutt up and down. His expression was pained, his pose desperate... whatever had happened in the last few months seemed to disorient his priorities. Sansy would be lying if he said the itch wasn’t gone yet. He did still want to fuck him. And, if he did, then he could fill his need one more time and finally officially move on. 

“Take off your coat and get on the bed,” he ordered. Mutt, like his animal namesake, dutifully followed his command, shucking off his coat and laying down on the gross motel mattress. Sansy took his hood down and marched back over. “Now you want to talk. Want to give me what I want... You’re way late.” He crawled on the bed over his partner, who shuddered beneath him. “If you had insisted on talking back then, I would have taken you up on that offer ten times over.” He shook his head in disappointment. “But nah, you made me come to you, crawling on my hands and knees every time.” He grabbed fists of Mutt’s wife beater in his hands. 

“I didn’t make you do anything,” he said, daring to turn them over and straddle the smaller skeleton. He bent down over Sansy’s shoulder, breathing in the nook and yanking his sweatshirt away so he could look the scar there. Sansy couldn’t help but whine, the tender marks warming under the familiar magic. “You did it all on your own. You invited me home with you.” A kiss. “You texted me to come over.” A scrape of sharp teeth against bone. “You ended it.”

“Because you didn’t even participate,” he growled through clenched teeth, taking Mutt’s mouth in his own for a kiss. It was angry, and he practically fought for dominance with his partner. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to be physical. So, he busied their mouths, grinding up against him. Mut gladly met him with equal intensity before breaking the kiss to focus on taking off Sansy’s clothes. “You never really wanted me. If you had, you’d’ve reached out like a normal fucking person. But you waited for me to start everything. You always waited.”

Mutt looked up at Sansy through his partly lidded sockets from down by the bottom of his coat zipper. “If ya haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly bold.” He pushed the coat back, helping him to sit up to properly remove it. Sansy tried to kiss him, but Mutt lifted his shirt off first, throwing it in their growing pile of laundry. “That first night we met, I had no idea what the fuck I was doin’. Hell, I didn’t expect you to want to see me again.” He clawed his hands down his rib cage, making Sansy shudder. “’Specially after I marked ya like I did.” He licked his sternum, letting his hand trail the scar. Sansy’s rough scarred bones ached at the contact. “But ya came back. Again and again and again. I started to trust ya ta always come back to me.” His warm tongue ran up his rib cage, up his neck, under his jaw and to his mouth. Sansy let him kiss him deeply, although it was a little romantic for his present taste. 

He grabbed Mutt’s pelvis firmly, trying to inspire him to do something cruder. Mutt certainly made an aroused sound against Sansy’s mouth in response. He hummed and whined, the only sound in the room being their gasps and mewls. That is until Mutt scooted them further up the bed and rolled Sansy over so he was on his chest. 

“I was nothing more than a fucking trophy to mark, huh? Just a notch on your belt?” Sansy felt his magic pool down to his pelvis to meet Mutt’s grinding from behind. 

“At first, absolutely.” Mutt crawled off of him, pulling down Sansy’s sweatpants, kissing his leg as he went down. “Such a free gorgeous spirit like you, I had to know ya’d been mine just once.” Sansy felt the pants leave him and Mutt start to crawl back over. He tried to turn, to get back up and take control, but his partner used strong hands to keep his shoulders down, locking him in place. 

“If you only wanted a one-time thing, you should have just said so.” He rubbed his skull against the bed. “Fuckin’ bastard.”

“I did only want one time. But you kept coming back and I couldn’t resist.” One of those big, long fingered hands played in the pool of magic at his pelvis, swirling it and shaping it. “Before I knew it, it was a habit. Every time I started ta want to see you, you messaged me. Like you could read my mind.”

“Clearly I couldn’t,” Sansy growled. Mutt kissed his back, giving him time to talk and not dominate the conversation he so desperately wanted. “You made me feel so unwanted.” He hated how his voice shook. “I wanted you so fucking badly. And you never met me partway. You just came over, fucked me silly, and then left every time. You never even spent the fucking night – ow!” Sharp teeth scraped down his spine. 

“I was your booty call. You don’t spend the night when you’re just there for sex.” A big hand pressed against the side of Sansy’s skull, pressing him down into the mattress. “And you never told me you wanted more.”

“Neither did you!” He turned Sansy’s face so he had to face him. Sansy was made to look into his pained face again. His soul faltered for a moment before he rejuvenated his steadfast constitution. “How was I supposed to know what you were thinking when you never talked to me?”

“I guess I shouldn’t have assumed,” he admitted. “I thought ya just wanted me for sex. I hadn’t thought I wasn’t alone in that.”

“Well, you weren’t.” He hated finding middle ground now of all times. He didn’t want to rekindle. Maybe he should have walked away instead of taking them to the motel. 

He hissed, the words leaving his skull when two fingers stretched inside him. And then, moments after they were removed, a tongue replaced them. “Nnn – dammit, Mutt.” He punched the bed, rubbing his forehead against it. “Ya make me feel like shit. Ya make me work so hard to get your attention – hnn.” The tongue stroked his walls, stretching and making his marrow burn. “How was I supposed to know you wanted anything more?”

“You weren’t.” He pulled up from his position, returning to fingering Sansy. He pushed his butt back to meet the hand inside him, clawing at the covers. “It wasn’t supposed to be anything more. A one-night stand. Maybe a few encore performances, but nothin’ more.” He actually laughed, spreading his hand wide on Sansy’s spine before grabbing it whole-heartedly. He gasped. “But you kept comin’ back to me.” He scissored him. He bit the bed sheets, trying to stifle his pleasure. “Hard not to catch feelings when you’re so incessant.”

Sans crushed his face into the bed, imprinting the pattern of the fabric onto his skull, angry and frustrated and wracked with pleasure. “Y-You fuckin’ asshole.” He clenched his sockets shut, not trusting himself to look at him for fear of crying outright. This whole time... This whole time his feelings had been reciprocated? As his interest grew so had Mutt’s and neither of them did anything? That couldn’t be! He knew he tried! “I... I told you I wanted to see you more,” he recalled. “Every chance I got I tried to keep you around and you left me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have listened, taken ya seriously.” Sansy heard the belt being undone, he buried his face in the blankets, completely hiding himself from the world around him. “Would ya believe me if I said I was scared? That I didn’t know how to move forward? That if I said anything it’d all be ruined?” He didn’t want to believe it. But he was so fucking earnest that Sansy couldn’t deny it. This aloof asshole, the one who’d possessed all of his thoughts so fully months ago, liked him? He fucking liked him all along?

“You fuckin’ liar,” he growled. “Stop lying – hnn, dah fuck!” Mutt slid himself in deep to his hilt, stretching Sansy’s magic easily as it always did. 

“’M not lying, angel,” he soothed, leaning over top Sansy, resting against the back of his spine. “I promise.”

He was too honest. Too authentic. Where was the player? The one that smoothly bought him drinks, humped him on the dance floor and sent one-word texts in conversations that always ended in Mutt coming over for a quick fuck. Where was that skeleton? And when had he turned into this scorned lover? 

Sansy couldn’t stand the transformation. He had spent months building up an angry facade – one to protect him from this wily skeleton. And he was being so easily disarmed. 

“You... You bastard.” His words were muffled, spoken into the mattress. He turned his head, making sure Mutt could you him. “You lying devious fucking bastard! Piece of shit tease!” He yelled and cried, letting out every bit of ire he had forged since they met. With every name he called, Mutt thrusted into him, pulling back slowly before slamming in. His words matched with the punctuation of Mutt’s thrust as they came to an odd harmony of swears and sex. 

He swore until his voice was hoarse, until his hands ached from gripping the blankets, until Mutt linked their hands and whispered against his skull, saying in a mantra, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. You deserve better. I’ll be better. I’m sorry.”

The kind words made his senses fill with electricity, distrust running rampant through his hollowed bones. Mutt cradled and caressed him, lovingly thrusting him, savoring it more so than any time before. The sentiment, the authenticity... he couldn’t accept what was happening to him. He wanted to be mad, but instead he loved it. Mutt was saying all the right things – every right thing. He couldn’t not feel the way he did. The warmth and affection warming up his icy facade.

Before he knew it, the names were just murmurs against the bed, his bones warm with affection and his body arching to meet his partner. He let himself roll, he let his mind turn off to just appreciate it, to fall into the fantasy that Mutt was building for him. A world in which he did like him, that there was more to their relationship than random booty calls, a world where they could be more than what they were. His words sounded authentic, but, even if they weren’t, Sansy let himself believe in it. 

He let himself live in his fantasy until he came, until his body went numb and he yelled into the mattress. Until he spasmed around Mutt and milked an orgasm from him, too. 

And then Mutt pulled out him. Here came the end to the lies. The illusion and fake authenticity would be shattered. Mutt would dress himself, say his goodbye, and then leave Sansy alone again. He always did. It only made sense that he’d do it again. 

But, to his surprise, Mutt didn’t pick up his jacket. No, he went to the head of the bed and pulled up the thin covers. Sansy leant back, giving him room to move the sheets as he crawled under. He made a space beside him and offered his hand. “I meant it,” he said. Sansy carefully took his hand, letting him help move him to the head of the bed. He joined him under the covers, hiding his bones and watching Mutt nervously. “You can still leave, if you want, just like I said.” He lay down, nestling in the blankets and pillows. Then he opened his arms. “Or you can stay. ‘S up to you.”

Sansy looked down at the open invitation, entertaining his options before slowly and cautiously crawling down under the covers and snuggling against Mutt’s still clothed chest. He let him hold him. He melted into the warmth around him, the hands on his back and arms at his sides, the teeth that gently pressed against his forehead in small loving kisses. 

“You really meant all those things you said?” he asked. Mutt nodded against him. 

“Did ya really mean what you said?”

Sansy mulled his curses through his skull again. When it came down to it, he didn’t. Not really. He was mad and had to express himself, let out his feelings and frustrations. But in retrospect... “No.” He spoke into his ribcage. “That was all really mean.”

“S’okay. I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He cradled the back of Sansy’s skull. “We both deserve better I think.” He nodded silently in agreement. “’M willin’ to be better. To try at least.”

“I think we do, too.” He dared to look up at his lover, to see his face and the warm affection that rested there. “May as well give it a shot.” Mutt’s smile spread wide, holding Sansy closer to him. He felt his thumb stroke the familiar scar on his shoulder. 

“Imma make sure this means something, angel.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Sansy spent the night in Mutt’s arms. He cuddled there, slept there, and woke up still against him. To his surprise and delight, they went to get coffee. Mutt promised he’d text him. Sansy didn’t know if he really believed it. 

That was until, two days later, he got an invitation to go to the movies from that familiar unknown number. 

And he knew that things really would be different.


	31. Day 31: Free Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink: Temperature Play  
Pairing: Sansby
> 
> Sans and Grillby celebrate their anniversary despite the setbacks.

It had sounded so good in theory. Grillby had made it sound so incredibly ideal

It was their first anniversary on the surface. All the monsters had been overwhelmed by the sheer population of the human race. There was more space, but so many people that it was nearly suffocating. So, a little escape into the woods was the much-needed social isolation Grillby and Sans both so desperately wanted. They’d be completely alone, breathing their own air away from prying eyes. They’d also be away from the lights of the city so they could spend each and every night cuddling under the stars. It was going to be a much needed break and a perfect way to celebrate their union. 

Or at least it was supposed to be. 

Instead, they were trapped in the tent, all panels and flaps zipped tightly shut as the rain pounded against it from the outside. It was nearly deafeningly loud. The wind shifted their support posts and they could see the lightning through the material and feel the rumbles of thunder through the ground. They’d brought pillows and blankets and sleeping bags, everything for a proper love nest. But they weren’t really using it. Grillby was too busy huddled in a ball, shaking at the loud sound of the rain. Sans was curled in one of the sleeping bags, trying to get some sort of rest, but unable to take his eye lights off his husband. He was jumpy, his eyes red voids of fear that flitted around the tent in anxiety. It was as if he was waiting for the tent to give way and for the rain to come for him.

Sans understood Grillby’s fear. Rain was harmful to a fire elemental. He had been essentially limited Snowdin in the Underground because of the constant rain in Waterfall. He had more free roaming abilities on the surface, but there was always a chance the rain would come, anywhere or anytime, and put him in danger. And, just their luck, it was happening now. 

Sans almost wished his husband had bolted to the car instead. It was farther away, but they could at least leave then. Instead, they were trapped in a tent. Well, Sans wasn’t. But there was no way in hell he was going to abandon his husband in the woods. 

Sans shivered in his sleeping bag. The cold was seeping through the bottom of the tent and going straight to his marrow. Grillby’s flames certainly kept the surface of his bones warm, but the chill went deeper than that. Desperate for warmth, and wanting to calm his husband, he reached a shivering hand out and tugged on his shirt. Grillby jumped and whipped his head in Sans’s direction his flames flaring in panic. 

He hated how he recognized the fear in his eyes, a little extra energy that made them glow brighter. It was actually similar to when he was excited, but his expression was undoubtedly scared. Sans opened his arms, lifting the fabrics that covered him to make a spot for Grillby to crawl into. His husband hesitated. “Grillby, I love you, but I swear to god if you don’t get down here and warm me up, I’ll have to climb you like a tree.” Grillby sighed, his limbs moving stiffly as he climbed into the empty space. Sans adjusted the blankets and sleeping bag around them, so they were both properly coddled, and then he buried himself in the fire elemental. 

He pressed his face in the fabric, soaking up the heat from his body. Grillby wrapped his arms around him, putting one burning hot hand on the back of his skull and resting the other on the small of his back under his sweatshirt. He could feel him purposefully making his temperature rise to help warm him up. Sans shuddered against the heat, beginning to feel this toes again while his husband was stiff against him. Sans leant up to look at his face. His lip was still trembling, his eyes flitting around the tent as he listened to every little sound from outside. 

“The tent’s gonna hold, Grillbz,” he tried to assure. A poorly timed flash of lightning and rumble of thunder made his husband jump, tucking his head against Sans’s skull. “Babe?” It was impossible for a fire elemental to be cold, but that didn’t stop Grillby from shivering, cradling Sans like that was going to protect him from what was outside. “Woah now, sunshine.” He pushed between them, making enough space so he could properly look up at him. He put his hand on his cheek, stroking his thumb against the solid flames. “Honey, look at me.”

Grillby cautiously unclenched his eyes, looking down at Sans through the steamed lenses of his glasses. Coming to a bit, he sniffed and wiped his eyes with the hand from Sans’s head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sans said. “You’re okay.” Another badly timed rumble of thunder made Grillby actually whimper. “It’s okay to let it get thunder your skin.” Grillby nodded. “It’s not gonna cause you any real prain.” He tucked his head in Sans’s neck. “I get that it’s an intents experience, though.” He nuzzled his shoulder. 

“Sans.”

He smiled. “I mean, how could you n-hot be freaked? I’m a little rattled myself.” 

“Sans, please be serious.” He could feel the slight smile against his neck, some of the nerves starting to leave him. 

“Nah, you’re doin’ all the serious parts, I’ll keep it light-hearted.” He reached his hand up to play with Grillby’s hair of flames, making the light in the tent ebb and wane. “Figuratively, of course.” He nuzzled back against his cheek, letting his husband’s flames warm his cold fingers. He sighed into it as Sans touched all the parts of his head that he knew felt good. Little lumps and ridges that made Grillby sigh in the best possible way. He cooed, “So tense.”

“Go figure.” Sans reached up and took Grillby’s glasses in between his fingers, slipping them off and putting them aside.

“Let me distract you,” he offered. 

“I don’t know if you can.” He glanced up at the roof of the tent. It shook with the force from the storm. He swallowed nervously.

“Come on, it’s still our anniversary.” He nudged Grillby’s face, making them face each other before gently kissing him. His husband was still a little stiff, his lip trembling slighlyt against Sans’s teeth. He was scared and nervous. For good reason. But Sans could help him forget that. And keep warm at the same time. 

He started slow, teasing the flames and pressing against Grillby, breathing in his touch and his heat. The fire elemental held him close, hugging him tighter when the thunder rumbled through their blankets. He broke the kiss, letting out a scared, shakey breath. Sans hummed and nuzzled his cheek, getting his attention again. “Just focus on me, sunshine.” 

Grillby nodded before kissing him again, pressing his hot iron tongue against Sans’s mouth until he let him in. He let him in, enjoying the warmth between their mouths while Grillby groped his bones, looking for something to ground himself with. Those hot fingers traced over his vertebrae, flames licking in the gaps between before crawling up and grabbing his rips from behind, pulling their bodies flush together. Sans sweat against the warm magic that enveloped him, but he still wanted more. He moved his hands between them and unbuttoned his husband’s shirt, slowly and teasingly before finally putting his hands on his body. He pressed his hands on his chest, letting his thumbs brush against his nipples. Grillby shuddered, not from fear, but from enjoyment. Sans could tell by the way he deepened the kiss in response, heating Sans’s skull from the inside, making what little sweat he had evaporate.

“Gettin’ pretty hot in here,” he murmured. The lips against him curled into a smile, a contagious one at that that made both of their magic spike in excitement.

“You’re incorrigible,” Grillby said against him. He took it as a dare and hooked one of his legs over Grillby’s, pulling their crotches closer together. “And forward.”

“Least I’m not boring.” One hand splayed between his pecs, feeling the solidity of his concentrated form, and moving one hand lower and lower, playing with the happy trail of flames above his belt. 

“Certainly not.” That hot tongue stroked the roof of Sans’s mouth, making him gasp. A flaming hand moved down and firmly grabbed his iliac crest. “I find you very entertaining.” He let the thumb grow in heat, rubbing searing little circles against his pelvis.

“Nn – ha. Well, that’s good. Cause I don’t think the squirrels are gonna put on a show for us.” It was a week attempt at a joke, his mind stuttering from the physical distractions.

“That was sub par.” Sans smiled, loving how Grillby could practically read his mind, wily and full of courage, letting his hand travel under his husband’s pants.

“Really? I thought it was a hole in one.” He let the tips of his fingers just barely graze the base of Grillby’s cock. His breath hitched, curling around him. It was the hottest part of him right now. Sans retracted his hand slightly, not prepared for the intensity heat, before touching him again, like trying to ease into a hot bath. He slowly moved his fingers down the shaft, only stopping when his belt was too restrictive on his wrist. He wiggled it out of its position and returned to splaying it on Grillby’s abdomen. 

Grillby removed his hand from Sans’s pelvis and undid his own belt, gently taking Sans’s wrist and bringing his hand back down to his cock, Sans’s fingers wrapping entirely around the scalding member. “Now who’s being forward?” 

“You started it,” Grillby purred, cupping Sans’s face. He flinched when the thunder rolled through again, but he kept pressing against him. Sans gladly rewarded the calm behavior, brushing his fingers against the underside of his member. 

Grillby returned his hand to Sans’s pelvis, tracing the rim of his cradle, drawing magic to accumulate there. He felt his magic move and flow and grow around the fingers, solidifying and forming around them into what Grillby wanted. The elemental dropped his temperature, keeping his fingers from searing Sans too terribly, settling with giving pleasure through movement and stretching, rolling his fingers deeply in him. The skeleton responded in kind, gently stroking Grillby’s member up and down, squeezing just enough to create that perfect level of friction. 

They kept kissing, gasping and moaning into each other’s mouths. Grillby’s breath was hot, a look into a furnace, and Sans drank it up eagerly. He loved making the fire monster burn hot. He had such good temperature control until he was aroused. And, as a skeleton, he had nothing to actually burn, so he was lucky enough to be able to recklessly stoke the raging fire. 

The fingers left his magic, two hands coming to cradle Sans by his back and pelvis, rolling them over so Sans lay on top of him. He sat up, pushing away from the burning coals below him, taking off his jacket and shirt to cool down as best he could. But then his back was against the air of the tent, which was actually warmer than the cold ground he had previously lain on. Their hovel was becoming an oven, and every drop of sweat Sans produced was immediately evaporated away by Grillby’s flames. Sans twisted his hand on his member, cranking him up slowly, watching his husband press his head back, his eyes turning to that burning blue color as they rolled back in his head. He loved this view. Loved knowing that he was making Grillby feel this good. Especially when, not too long ago, he was almost paralyzed in fear. 

No fear now. Just pleasure. 

Sans rubbed his thumb against the tip of Grillby’s cock one more time, teasing a mewl from his shirtless husband below him. He let the member go and felt its owner loosen his grip on his hips, allowing Sans to stand and take off his shorts. Normally, his pussy was hot and chilled when cool air touched it. But now, his magic felt colder than the air around him, warming when he removed his layers. He went back to straddling his husband, hiking himself up so he could press the tip of Grillby’s member up against his summoned pussy. His body shuddered, his pussy clenching prematurely at the intense heat of it. 

He slid down on the molten glass, letting it fill him to its hilt. Grillby reached his arms up and Sans leant down to meet him, easing into the embrace and spreading his hands flush against Grillby’s chest. His husband smiled in satisfaction, craning down to kiss Sans again. It was lazy and slow, their tongues effortlessly touching and dancing in the hot air between them as Sans rocked his hips. The hot fingers clenched and burned against Sans’s back, making him gasp as he moved on and off the burning hot member. His magic squelched and steamed as Grillby rolled with him. They rocked without urgency, locked in embrace, becoming a single mass of heat. He made his soul pulse harder, reaching out to transfer into Grillby, meeting his warmth with his own aroused magic. “Mmhmhmha,” Grillby hummed, delving into a chuckle. 

“What?” Sans asked against him, smiling to match his exuberance. Grillby’s eyes were a searingly bright blue, matching the temperature of his magic. That same hot hue was present slightly at the root of his hair and at the center of his chest, right over where his soul beat so strongly. 

“Just never thought I’d actually like being in the middle of a thunderstorm.” He brought a hand to cup Sans’s cheek. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

The sentiment warmed Sans’s soul in an entirely different way. No physical temperature, just a pleasant flush of affection. “Well, good news, the feeling is mutual.”

“Thank god for that.” Sans leant up to kiss him. His lips felt almost cold in comparison to the affection that raged in Sans’s soul. The light of his life. His own personal sun. He could feel the love pulsing between them, warming them in that new way, making Sans melt into their rhythm, the sensitivity of his bones heightening. He practically arched into every rock, moaned at every kiss and stroke. Grillby rolled in such a way to press the base of his cock against Sans’s clit, the contact sending a shot straight up his spine from the bud. He gasped, and with every subsequent roll he ramped up. Sans became useless in the kiss, resorting to gasping as Grillby pressed their foreheads together, focusing on the movement of their hips until the heat became too much.

His senses blew like a fuse, racking through his body, his bones going cold despite the intense heat in the tent and inside him. The hot rod in his pussy kept rocking and rolling through his orgasm. Grillby grunted with every movement, until Sans felt himself fill with molten liquid. 

He was on white-hot fire, the heat draining him after his release. Grillby didn’t move to pull out, he just held Sans against him as they caught their breath, holding him tight, kissing his temple lovingly. Sans hummed, turning his head to kiss his husband directly. 

“Now that was hot.”

Grillby laughed as loudly as he could – a moderate chuckle that made him cover his eyes and hide his face in Sans’s shoulder, before coming back in for a kiss. 

They kissed and cuddled, making proper use of their love nest until the rain finally died down. The dressed and, as soon as they knew it was safe and the rain had truly finished, they quickly disassembled their campsite and bolted back to the car, for fear that the storm might come back. 

“Next time we’ll rent a cabin,” Sans vowed, as Grillby turned on the car. He opened the sun roof shade, looked up and smiled. 

“Look.” 

Sans craned his neck up to look through the ceiling. Through the trees and the leftover gray clouds, Sans could see the stars flicking in the deep night sky. Sans couldn’t help his smile. The city was so bright... he hadn’t seen the stars like this since they first emerged from the Underground. 

Grillby pulled a lever on his seat, making it lay back, and Sans followed, gladly settling in to stare at the sky. It was an enchanting view, and he felt a warm hand reach over to hold his own. 

“Happy anniversary, Sans.”

Sans couldn’t help but turn to look at his husband. As much as he loved the stars, he really loved looking at his husband. And, despite the weather and their nerves, he wouldn’t change any of it. He leant over, closing the space between their chairs to give him a small kiss. 

“Happy anniversary, sunshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all of these stories. Kinktober kicked my ass and I loved most every second of it.


End file.
